Star Wars AU Episode II: Art of the Chiaroscurist
by Zizak-Tel
Summary: AU. A galaxy teeters on the verge of civil war as assassins and terror dominate the news. There are clones, droids, romances, and a struggle for the galaxy's future. It's not the Episode II you know.
1. Preface

A long time ago, in a galaxy right here ...

I am not George Lucas, and I do not own the recognized characters in this story. This is an unapologetically alternate universe, and there are characters of my own creation, worlds of my own creation, and some of the characters you might otherwise recognize have been stood on their heads and look or sound quite different than they did in the movie. While it is not necessary to read my previous work to enjoy this story, it may be helpful.

The term "chiaroscuro" was one I had not come across until I saw it as a chapter title in the novelization of Episode III. Once I looked it up, however, I was captivated by the word. I decided I had to fit it into a title, and so here it is: Star Wars AU Episode II subtitled "Art of the Chiaroscurist". Yes, both of my episodes do have the same initials, and that is conscious--though the subtitles themselves do have meaning, not just jamming together words that fit. My working title for AU Episode III also has the same initials as the canon Episode III, though I am unsure whether I will continue that pattern through AU Episodes IV-VI.

My opinions on good and evil will begin to come into play significantly in this episode. I do not believe that evil announces itself with the obviousness of a cartoon villain. Evil is far more subtle, making itself wear a mask of good so as to seduce the unwary. It is for this reason that in this telling, the Jedi will speak of the light and dark sides of the Force; those who do not eschew the dark side will speak of "the full power of the Force" or "the full potential of the Force" rather than open recognition that they are in thrall to evil. This is not to say that I believe evil is more powerful than good, despite the fact that evil will be ascendant during much of this entire saga (I am planning episodes three through six which are presently in various stages of random notes, broad plot points, and outlines). In fact, I believe that good (or light) is far more powerful than evil (or darkness).

There are some significant divergences from the canon story, as well as numerous minor differences. I apologize for neither major nor minor. While you read and (hopefully) review, I hope you enjoy this telling for the story I have chosen to write. I shall outline here some of my major departures from canon.

This episode will **not** end with a wedding between Anakin and Padmé. The rest of the relationship, I will leave for the telling of the tale, but consider this to be fair warning that my story here will bring disappointment to devoted fans of the Anakin-Padmé pairing. But you never know--you just might like what I have on offer after all. And for those of you who are now wondering how I will get back to Luke and Leia being twin children of Anakin and Padmé--the answer is that in this AU, they are neither twins nor even siblings--though Luke is not _entirely_ without siblings. You may consider that statement a slight teaser for Episode III.

Also worthy of note is the fact that Ianthe Naiia will not be standing in for Padmé in the Senate, nor does she serve in the Senate at all. I confess that I rather miss her, but the inclusion of the character would be self-indulgence at the price of story. Furthermore, Anakin and Padmé will not be spending time on Naboo, as I do not believe a celebrity of the stature of Padmé Amidala would be able to visit Naboo without attracting far too much notice and fanfare for the circumstances.

I have changed the actual name and the Sith name of Count Dooku/Darth Tyranus. In the first place, I suppose that having children for whom bathroom humor is the height of hilarity completely ruined the Dooku name for me, enough said. Tyranus ... in keeping with my philosophy regarding good and evil, a name with such obvious negative connotations had to go. So--the suave, well-educated man whose road to hell was paved with good intentions became Count Rex Austerus of Serenno, also known as Darth Apollon.

I have also made substantial revisions to the family trees of the Antilles-Organa lines on Alderaan. In this AU, Breha Antilles (her father being Bail Antilles, the Senator from Alderaan in _The Puppet Master_) was born in 69 BBY. She then married Mazic Organa, and Bail Organa (born in 50 BBY) is her son. I suppose I could believe Breha might name a son after her father, but the father and husband sharing the name was just a little too Electra-complex for my taste, especially in view of the canon ages of the characters. I've made other minor adjustments, and will note such developments when plot-relevant.

Other divergences from canon are intentional--the aforementioned are just the ones worthy of note at the outset. As in _The Puppet Master_, a few notes on conventions that I am using: italics with no quotation marks indicates thought or other such interior action, like dreams; italics inside double quotation marks indicates that the speaker is using a foreign language comprehensible to the POV character. Such languages will be evident either by the species of the speaker or be identified at the beginning of the dialogue.

-Z


	2. Prologue

A/N: I remain someone other than George Lucas. This means, of course, that I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... The plot, however, has many elements which come from my own imagination. I find dream interpretation a fascinating subject, and rarely are dreams so literal as "loved person in peril in dream loved person in peril in real life". I have used the dream dictionary at www(dot)dreammoods(dot)com(slash)dreamdictionary to assist in the building of Anakin's dream in this scene.

Incidentally, Ivo Andric was a person of the real world (1892-1975, the 1961 winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature).

* * *

_Between the fear that something would happen and the hope that still it wouldn't, there is much more space than one thinks. On that narrow, hard, bare and dark space a lot of us spend our lives.--Ivo Andric_

* * *

The scene before him, fully present and real, filled Anakin's mind.

_All that I ever wanted. He watched himself, dressed in the manner of a Jedi Master--with gleaming white robes and shining silver of his lightsaber at his waist, approaching the table. Already there were his mother and a half-dozen shadowed figures. He knew them, though he had never laid eyes upon them--friends and ... family. A true family, his mother no longer a slave, but free. He was not certain how he knew this was so, but he just did. A convivial gathering, he could sense the happiness radiating from everyone present. A table groaning with food and drink, condensation on the glasses, yet no one hurried to gather the precious drops._

_"Dee!" His mother's voice, so pleased, proud of him._

_He took another step toward the people, ready to join them at the table._

_Darkness, a great choking cloud of darkness, descended. He had been cut off._

"Mom!" Anakin's voice rang through the small chamber, though he knew it not.

_"Mom!"_

_"Dee!" Anguish in his mother's voice._

"I'm coming, Mom!"

_The hiss of a lightsaber, and the thin blue light struggled against the darkness. Beneath his feet, something crunched. Still in darkness, save for the thin blue light, he continued forward. Tiny white threads wrapped around him._

_"DEE!" The anguish was worse than before._

_He had traveled so far. This was where the table stood. He was certain of it. But it was merely a picture ... then a tessera fell, marring the image. He could hear the shattering of stone against floor. A maggot wriggled through the new opening._

_"DEE!" His mother's voice was radiating agony, a searing pain that swept through him._

_Tiny white threads bound him tightly, so he could not move. More and more threads wrapped around him and he could scarcely breathe._

_"Mom!"_

_Tessera after tessera fell. Helplessly, he remained in place, watching. More and more maggots wriggled through what had once been such a scene of happiness._

_"Dee!" More anguish, yet growing more distant, as though she were being carried away from him in the darkness._

_White binding threads tightened, holding him fast._

"Mom!"

Anakin sat bolt upright in his cot, the scene dissolving into the simple white surroundings of the interior of a spaceship chamber.

"Ansion!" Obi-Wan's voice carried back from the front of the ship, announcing their imminent drop from hyperspace.

_It was just a dream. Just a bad dream._ Anakin sat still upon his cot, trying to calm his breathing._ It was only a dream. Keep your mind focused on the here and now ... the mission ..._

With that virtual dousing of cold water, Anakin felt his heart sink. There was no point in discussing the dream with Obi-Wan. Their time was spoken for--a web of training and minor missions, no time to travel to the other side of the galaxy for mere personal reasons.

_If only we were on Coruscant._ Anakin reached up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as he remembered Chancellor Palpatine talking with him. _He is so wise--and has so much responsibility, yet always has the time to talk with me..._

He could almost hear Chancellor Palpatine speaking to him, encouraging him to persevere through the frustrations. The constant training, exercises in self-control, denying the power he was sure had grown. _You will be a most powerful Jedi. _He could hear Palpatine's voice in his mind's ear, replaying the words. _You will achieve heights that none other has._

"Ansion!" said Obi-Wan again, the faintest hint of exasperation tinging his voice. "Anakin, get up here."

Obi-Wan. Teacher, mentor ... as near to family as Anakin had ever had since leaving his mother behind. Yet, quick to point up his failings, praise measured as though water on Tatooine. Speaking of his dream--no, not a dream, a nightmare ... Anakin realized the futility, and firmly pushed aside the memory of his mother's anguished voice calling to him.

Taking a deep breath, centering himself in the here and now, Anakin called, "Coming, Master."


	3. Chapter 1

A/N: I remain someone other than George Lucas. This means, of course, that I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... The plot, however, has many elements which come from my own imagination, as well as a few original characters and relationships. Rust Disease, for those who did not read my earlier work, was an additional element causing hardship to the people of Naboo during the Federation blockade.

Warnings specific to this chapter: Violent deaths.

* * *

The room was a triumph of Naboo taste. Delicately curved sculptures occupied niches about the round table. Between each of them, a Naboo guardsman stood, silently watching the proceedings.

"Good day." Sha'neeka Mis of the Refugee Relief Movement entered and gave a bow to his counterpart of the Naboo Moon Mining Union.

Jagen gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. His lips thinned, showing his dislike for the Twi'lek. "Good day, I am pleased that you are here."

"We are pleased to be here," replied Sha'neeka. "We hope that our meeting will bear much fruit."

"We shall see." Jagen Leikvold turned to his aide. "Where is Senator Amidala?"

Consulting a datapad, Athlena Raeth replied, "It seems that she will not be able to make it after all. Senator Amidala will be sending her assistant, Fé Ploennings, and also sends her regrets that she will be unable to attend today."

"Such an insult!" sputtered Jagen. "Is the Mining Union not worthy of more than a mere ... assistant!?"

"Ploennings is no mere assistant," said Athlena. "She is the very next best thing to having Amidala here. She was a handmaiden back ..."

"Pah! I should think that if there were more concern for the impact of these refugees on the Mining Union, the Senator herself would come and address the affected people," retorted Jagen, nostrils flaring.

"Well, you can always tell Representative Ploennings how you feel yourself," said Athlena. "For here she comes."

Indeed, accompanied by a number of Naboo Guardsmen, the slight figure of Fé Ploennings approached.

Fé gave a courtly nod of the head to Jagen.

"Mr. Leikvold." Fé had a melodic voice, though the musicality did little to soothe the fury on Jagen's face. She continued, "I regret that Senator Amidala is unable to be present personally. I can assure you that I am quite able to answer the many questions that the members of the mining union might have. We understand how important--"

"Representative Ploennings," returned Jagen, his face turned down in evidence of his distaste. "Since the Senator does not consider this matter important enough for her personal appearance ..."

Fé's mouth tightened ever so slightly at the interruption, and then opened her mouth once more to speak again.

What it was that she had been about to say would be forever unknown. For at that moment, a bomb ripped apart the table in the center of the room. Wood splintered. One long wooden shard pierced Fé's throat. Another wooden spear sprouted from Jagen's back and burst through his chest. He stared at the bloody point for a moment, not comprehending what had just occurred before finally his eyes turned glassy in death.

A secondary explosion engulfed the room in flames. Transparisteel shattered as the windows fell, the ground shaking violently. A loud crack announced the splitting of rock as the building shifted from its foundation.

Just as suddenly, all was quiet once more.

Alarms began to wail then, calling for futile assistance to the scene.

xXxXx

Padmé walked through the halls of the Palace, her former home for eight years. Many of the guardsmen bowed to her as she passed as though she were still queen, and not merely a senator visiting at the behest of her sovereign. In the distance, she could see the rolling countryside, grateful that the Rust Disease was a long-past memory and few scars of the Federation's invasion were visible.

She reached the throne room, and a guardsman went ahead to announce, "Senator Amidala."

Padmé stepped into the throne room at the beckoning gesture of her successor, Queen Jamillia. _How little has changed!_ The handmaidens dressed in simple hooded gowns, with gold colored trim the same as the queen's own. Queen Jamillia wore a great headdress and elaborate gown which Padmé could easily guess the weight of, as she had once worn such regalia on a near-daily basis, even if the precise garments were not the same as those she had worn. Sio Bibble, and most of the same advisors who had once served her, were seated around the room. Padmé took in all these people with a single glance. _It doesn't look that much different, even from this side._

"We are pleased to see you safe," said Queen Jamillia. "We have been worried about you."

Padmé smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I understand you will be returning to Coruscant soon," said Queen Jamillia. "How grave is the situation with the separatists?"

_Direct, and to the point,_ thought Padmé. "Yes, Madam," she replied, "I will be returning to Coruscant after I have paid a visit to my family. The separatists have been gaining systems daily, and the number of refugees is a matter of grave concern. I fear, though, that if the Military Creation Act were to go through, it would plunge us all into civil war."

"Unthinkable!" sputtered Sio Bibble, his face reddening. "There hasn't been a full-scale war ..."

"Is there any way, through negotiation," asked Queen Jamillia, "to bring the separatists back into the Republic without such open conflict?"

"Not if they are threatened," replied Padmé. _Sio hasn't changed. At least he doesn't fluster Jamillia._ "The separatists don't have an army. If they're provoked, I'm certain they would move to defend themselves--and without time or money to build an army otherwise, they would undoubtedly turn to the Commerce Guild or the Trade Federation."

Mention of the Trade Federation brought inevitable expressions of disgust across the faces of the others in the room, all of whom had suffered in greater or lesser degree during the Trade Federation's occupation of Naboo.

"Why has nothing been done in the Senate to restrain them?" asked Jamillia indignantly.

"Despite the Chancellor's best efforts," replied Padmé, "I'm afraid that the guilds still fill the pockets of a number of judges and bureaucrats--even some of my fellow Senators, I believe."

"Is it not true, then, that the guilds have moved closer to the separatist cause?" said Jamillia.

"It's outrageous!" Sio slammed one fist into an open palm. "Outrageous! After all those hearings--**four** trials, and that Nute Gunray remains their viceroy! Those money-mongers control everything ..."

"It is for this reason that I will not contribute to pushing them closer into the arms of the separatists," replied Padmé.

"Remember, Governor," said Jamillia, "the Federation did have to reduce their armies, by court order."

"I'm afraid, Madam," said Padmé, "that there are many rumors that they have not in fact done so."

This statement set Sio off once more. "How can this be! Was there not clear evidence? How can they continue business as usual?"

"We have been given to understand that investigation to verify or disprove rumors would be too dangerous for the economy," replied Padmé. "But we still must keep our faith in the Republic."

Queen Jamillia nodded. "The day we stop believing in democracy, is when we lose it."

"That day will never come for me," averred Padmé.

xXxXx

Those who knew only Amidala as the public figure, might fail to recognize the young woman who wore a simple burgundy gown while sitting on a bench swing. Next to her resided a slightly-older woman whose hair was done in the traditional style of a matron, rather than a maid's.

"Don't you wish you could just stay and enjoy a night like this?" said her elder sister. "Instead of spending your time in meetings with the queen?"

"It was only **one** meeting," replied Padmé.

"About that military creation act?" responded Sola.

Padmé did not answer aloud. _What else __**would**__ it be? Even here, the holovids are buzzing about nothing but separatists and calls for a military ..._

"The Republic is in tumult, but never fear," quipped Sola sarcastically. "Senator Amidala will put it all right."

"Sola!"

"It is what you do, isn't it?" said Sola.

"It's what I **try **to do," answered Padmé.

"It's **all** you try to do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Padmé made a puzzled frown, and continued, "I am a Senator ..."

"A Senator after a Queen. And how many more offices?" Sola paused to look over to the playhouse where her daughters were shrieking in play. "Don't you ever think about all that you are giving up?"

"Like what?"

Sola gestured to her daughters, now sliding down from the playhouse and running across the fields. "Look at them. I see how your eyes sparkle when you're with them. I know how much you love them."

"Well, of course I do. I am their aunt as well. Being a Senator doesn't change that."

"Wouldn't you like to have children of your own?" Sola prodded. "A family of your own?"

"I'm working on something important now. Something I believe deeply in."

"You've convinced yourself you're indispensible to the galaxy. After this is settled, there'll be something else to deeply believe in, something else that's terribly important ... something that concerns the Republic and the government more than it really concerns you."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true, and you know it's true. When are you going to do something just for you?"

"I am."

"You know what I mean."

Padmé laughed and shook her head. Turning, she watched Ryoo and Pooja play. "So, without children, I have done nothing?"

"Of course not, it's not that at all. Well ... not **just**... I mean ... Sis, you spend all your time worrying about other people who don't worry about you--this planet's dispute with that one, this trade guild and that system ... All your energy being thrown out there to make someone else's life better ..."

"And just what is wrong with that?"

"What about **your **life? What about Padmé Naberrie? Does she still even exist, or did she vanish and only Amidala remains? Don't you wonder what might make your life better? Most people retire from public service by your age--I know you get satisfaction in helping other people. But what about you? What about love, Sis? And yes, about having kids. Have you even thought about what would make your life fuller? What it'd be like to settle down and concern yourself with the things that would make your own life better?"

"You're impossible! What I'm doing ..."

"Is important," said Sola. "But you're missing so much! You should be seeing someone ..."

"Who says that I'm not?" shot back Padmé. Memories of numerous dinner meetings rushed through her mind. _Sure, some business was discussed ... sometimes ... They might wish for my vote and support, but that doesn't mean there weren't personal reasons for meeting at dinner._

"You never mentioned ..." said Sola.

"No," said Padmé, "I didn't."

"So ..." prompted Sola.

"It's not important," replied Padmé. _Better to let her wonder than give her something else to pick at._

"You act like you're forbidden to fall in love," said Sola.

"Why are you trying to push me into that?" said Padmé. "You're talking to me as if I'm a little girl scared to go on her first date."

"Well, if the shoe fits ..."

"It doesn't," said Padmé. "Sola, I'm happy for you--your husband, your children. But your path isn't mine. And in case you haven't noticed--I'm grown up now."

"You'll always be my little sis, though," said Sola.

"I know," replied Padmé. "And I'm glad that you care about what happens to me. I just have a different path for my life."

xXxXx

The brilliant sun of a clear Naboo day shone through the window as Padmé checked on the status of news from Coruscant. A holographic scale showed soldiers in one pan, flags of truce in the other. At the moment, it seemed those scales were perfectly balanced.

"It will be close," she murmured, rubbing at her temples. She began dropping holodisks and other accoutrements into a box.

A rock from the yard outside struck the window with a loud reverberation. A loud knock at the door followed. Before she could respond, the door slid open.

Captain Panaka strode into the room. "Just checking, m'lady."

"Shouldn't you be seeing to the Queen?" said Padmé.

"She is well-protected, I assure you," replied Captain Panaka.

"I'm no longer a queen, Captain," said Padmé. "What is going on out there?"

Padmé walked across the room to look out the window at the men involved in the disturbance. Naboo security forces had restrained a number of those who were still jostling and fighting in the plaza.

"Spice miners--contract issues," replied Captain Panaka. "Nothing to concern you, m'lady. It's not large enough. I was actually on my way here to discuss security for your return to Coruscant."

A shout from the fighting outside drew her attention. _Is that just the way people are? Never content when all is well, they have to create some problem, some excitement?_

"M'lady?" said Captain Panaka.

Another man, looking much like a younger version of Captain Panaka himself, entered the office, and gave a slight bow to Padmé.

Shaking herself from her private contemplation of the situation, Padmé said, "Yes?"

"My nephew, Captain Typho, m'lady. Now, we should discuss the security procedures," replied Captain Panaka.

"Very well," answered Padmé.

"Have you seen the latest news? About the Trade Federation?" Captain Panaka looked grave. "They have gone over to Count Austerus."

"It's certainly no surprise," replied Padmé. "I suspected that Count Austerus would be courting the Trade Federation and the commerce guilds. Viceroy Gunray is, in the main, an opportunist. He would do anything if he thinks it'd benefit him financially. Count Austerus no doubt knows that, and is willing to provide sufficient purse to buy the Viceroy."

"I'm more concerned with what this means to you, m'lady," said Captain Panaka. "The separatists have shown themselves to not be above violence. There have been assassination attempts throughout the Republic. We can't even be sure that what happened on Rori was not because their intelligence told them that you would have been at that meeting."

Padmé winced at the mention of Rori, and the immediate underlying thought of Fé's death.

"But wouldn't the separatists consider Senator Amidala near an ally now?" interjected Captain Typho.

"I am no friend to any who would dissolve the Republic, Captain." Padmé stared at him with considerable surprise. "My record is quite clear."

"Agreed, m'lady," said Captain Typho, bowing. "And no offense meant, of course. It just seemed that remaining firmly in the court of negotiation over force would be in line with what the separatists would want."

"It is the only way I believe we can hope to bring them back into the Republic," said Padmé.

"Gunray has thrown in with Count Austerus," interposed Captain Panaka, determined to remain on topic. "That mere fact means that we must tighten security about Senator Amidala."

"You needn't act as though I were not here," scolded Padmé.

"In matters of security, m'lady," returned Captain Panaka unapologetically, "you **aren't**. My nephew reports to me, and his responsibilities on this matter are not to be undermined. Take all precautions."

Captain Panaka gave a curt bow and walked away.

Padmé bit back the rebuke that was on her lips. _He's right, of course. He was right to point it out, no matter how much I wish it weren't so. _She turned to look at Captain Typho.

"We will be vigilant, m'lady."

"I have my duty, and that duty demands that I return to Coruscant. Soon."

"And I have my duty," assured Captain Typho. "I shall begin making the arrangements." With that, he gave a bow and walked away.

Padmé sighed as she began packing again, turning to look at the holographic depiction of the expected vote. _Is it just my imagination, or did the balance shift?_


	4. Chapter 2

A/N: I remain someone other than George Lucas. This means, of course, that I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... The plot, however, has many elements which come from my own imagination. I have again used the dream dictionary at www(dot)dreammoods(dot)com(slash)dreamdictionary to assist in the building of Anakin's dream in this scene.

* * *

The scene before him, fully present and real, filled Anakin's mind.

_He saw them again, his mother and the others he instinctively knew as family. They were happily rejoicing, eating a hearty meal of unimaginable luxury. With his gleaming white robes and shining silver lightsaber, Anakin watched himself approach as the scene slowed before him. The figures slowed, as though too heavy to continue moving, until they had stilled altogether. Glass! They had all turned into colored glass. And then suddenly, a great, choking blackness enveloped him._

Dream perspective shifted, as Anakin moved from observer to actor._ "Mom!"_

_"Dee!" Anguish in his mother's voice._

_There was a hiss of his lightsaber, and a thin blue light struggled against darkness. Beneath his feet, he felt something crunch. Looking down, he saw beetles scuttle away from the glow of his lightsaber, as they crawled about his feet. With only the glow of his weapon to guide him, he continued forward. From out of nowhere, tiny white threads began to wrap themselves around him._

_"DEE!"_

_He continued through the shadows as the white threads pulled him back. Finally, he reached the table, but it was merely a glass sculpture ... spiders weaving webs from one frozen fingertip to another._

_"DEE!" His mother's voice was radiating agony, a searing pain that swept through him._

_Tiny white threads bound him tightly, preventing his progress. More and more of them wrapped around him--choking off his breath, as they pulled him away from the sculpture. He fought, struggling against the bonds as they strengthened against him._

_"Mom!" If he could only reach her, he knew everything would be all right._

_He heard before he saw it, the strange sound of glass cracking, splintering. Helplessly, he remained in place, watching. A fat teardrop oozed through a crack in the glass of his mother's eye. Yet not water, but a maggot. The loathsome thing writhed through the splintered shards. More and more maggots, growing to a steady stream, wriggled through what had once been such a scene of happiness. The last of the image shattered as they emerged and the squirming mass crashed like a waterfall, flowing toward him._

_"Dee!" More anguish, yet growing more distant, as though she were being carried away from him in the darkness._

_White binding threads tightened, holding him fast. He reached out with the Force, and freed himself from the hateful bonds. He smashed the spiders as the glass shattered into millions of pieces. Nothing could stop him now, he was all-powerful, he could save her._

_"Mom!"_

_"Dee ..." How far away she was! She was in torment. He had waited too long._

"Anakin!" The sharp voice of Obi-Wan severed the dream. "Wake up!"

"Master?" Anakin felt his sweat break out.

"Your sleep is troubled," said Obi-Wan. "Have you been neglecting your meditations?"

"No, Master," lied Anakin. "It's just ... I feel that my mother needs me."

"You need to pay close attention to your meditations, Anakin," scolded Obi-Wan. "We are going to Coruscant, and no doubt very little time before our next mission. These fears invading your dreams indicate that you must redouble your efforts in meditation. It is from the well of calm that we gain our sight into the will of the Force--to do otherwise risks pushing against the way of the Force."

"Yes, Master. I will try to do better."

xXxXx

Like swooping swallows, four gleaming starships joined the traffic of Coruscant. The graceful shape of the ships bespoke of their origin--these were from Naboo. One starfighter led the way as it wove through the spires of the multitudes of skyscrapers led the way. Two more of them trailed the larger ship--the yellow and chrome cruiser which could only be none other than Senator Amidala's.

Together they traveled the slightly less trafficked routes. The three starfighters were kept on the alert for enemies who might wish to prevent Senator Amidala's return to Coruscant.

The pilot on point, Dolphe--a decorated hero from the battle against the Trade Federation eight years ago--swooped about one tower, weaving behind the next as though playing a game of hide and seek with a foe who failed to materialize.

The landing pad was clear, visibly secured by Coruscanti workers. Making a final circuit, Dolphe flew past the landing platform and turned sharply. The central cruiser hovered in place for a moment before gently landing, as Dolphe remained aloft. The trailing starfighters landed side-by-side on one end of the platform.

As Dolphe made another circuit, the pilots of the two starfighters each threw back their respective canopies, and clambered down from the cockpits. Their flight helmets obscured identity, but it was easy to distinguish from their forms that one was significantly smaller and of feminine build, while the other was larger and clearly masculine.

Removing his helmet, Captain Typho ran a hand through his hair as the other pilot came to his side.

"We made it. Guess I was wrong--their reach doesn't go so far as Coruscant," said Gregor. "No danger at all."

"There's always danger," replied his still-helmeted companion. "We're just able to avoid it, sometimes."

The ramp of the cruiser was lowering. Two Naboo guards emerged, blasters at the ready, and now stood at either side of the lowered ramp.

The white and black gown of Senator Amidala, her hair obscured by an elaborate black feathered hat, came into view. Captain Typho seemed barely capable of breathing as he watched her descent. Across the way, Dolphe remained in his ship, on the alert. A handmaiden trailed behind, dressed in a dark navy traveling robe.

A loud flash came from inside the ship as a concussive blast threw the two starfighter pilots onto the permacrete.

Time compressed. Time stretched.

Captain Typho roused himself to hands and knees, looking at the cruiser. "NO!"

A spectacular display of fire and white hot metal played against the Coruscanti sky. The burning cruiser remained on the platform producing a macabre fireworks show. On the ground, crumpled forms of those too near the blast.

An eternity of a few seconds, and klaxon blared, alarms screaming over the sounds of horrified on-lookers and the moans of the wounded.

Captain Typho looked--his counterpart and Dolphe were both racing toward the wreckage. Reaching the fallen woman in Amidala's robes, the pilot tore her helmet off, long hair cascading down her back.

"Cordé!" she said, kneeling beside the fallen woman.

"Senator!" shouted Captain Typho, trying to be heard over the cacophany. "The danger isn't past! Come!"

"Cordé!" she said, her voice breaking, embracing the woman heedless of the blood staining the pilot's uniform she wore.

Cordé opened her eyes, her words forming with difficulty as her breath raled against lungs no longer intact. "M'lady ... I ... I'm not sure ... I ..."

"No!" screamed Padmé, as Cordé's eyes took on the glass of death. "No! Cordé!"

"Senator!" cried Captain Typho as he fought the temptation to haul the Senator over his shoulder and take her from the landing platform. "M'lady, you're still in danger."

"I shouldn't've come back," said Padmé. "Not again ..."

"The vote is important," stated Captain Typho. "Cordé did her duty, now you must do yours. Come!"

Padmé shook her head, looking down at the fallen. "Versé!"

"Senator Amidala, please!" Staring down at her tear-filled eyes, he scolded, "Would you diminish their deaths by staying here to risk your own life after this? What good will their sacrifice be if you ..."

"Enough!" interrupted Padmé, stung by the lecture.

R2 units lowered from the fighters to follow behind as Captain Typho finally managed to lead Padmé away to the waiting transport while Dolphe continued to run interference to ensure her safety.

xXxXx

As a star sapphire set in the midst of silvery prongs, the domed building which housed the Senate dwarfed the towering complexes in importance, rather than size. For here was the center of the galaxy, the place from which all law was made ... or at least, so it had once been.

The giant rotunda in the center of the structure was ringed with a multitude of floating platforms, each designated for one of the many Senators of the Republic. Now, though, far too many stood vacant, a mute testimony to the spread of the Separatist movement. Count Austerus had charged the Republic had grown too ponderous, too large, and too wrapped up in their profits and corruption. Those who observed the Senate on this day might find themselves unable to disagree.

One unmoving platform stood in the center of the floor. Upon it stood, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, his majordomo Mas Amedda, and one of his many aides, stood, as the tumult roared about them.

Uv Gizen, the Chancellor's aide, shook his head. "They are afraid, Chancellor. The separatists ..."

"They are troublesome," said Akhil thoughtfully, despite the ruckus surrounding him. "I do not know if they have been stirred to murderous frenzy or such has burst forth in spite of the Count's efforts. There is no question, though. We must take them seriously." He turned to Mas Amedda, and gestured.

Mas Amedda nodded, his skin brightening as testament to his agitation. "Order!" He struck the ceremonial staff upon the floor of the stationary platform. "We shall have order!"

The conversations from box to box did not cease, however. Rumors flew that the violence of the separatists had struck closer than ever before. Uv Gizen stared at the datapad in his hands in disbelief, and then moved to stand beside Akhil Palpatine.

"It's terrible, sir."

"No ..." Akhil Palpatine's shoulders sagged.

Mas Amedda called loudly, "Senators, please! Indeed we have much to discuss. Many important issues. But the motion before us at this time, to commission an army to protect the Republic takes precedence. That alone we will vote on at this time. This and nothing more. Other business will have to defer."

The Supreme Chancellor stepped up to his podium as though to speak, his posture one of grief. A low rumble echoed as one senator after another noticed his unusual position, and then grew still.

Mas Amedda bowed to the chancellor, and stepped back.

"My esteemed colleagues ..." began Akhil Palpatine, his voice cracking with emotion on the last word. "Excuse me." He took a deep breath to collect himself into a state of calm before continuing, as the thousands present held their breath. "My esteemed colleagues, I have just received some tragic and disturbing news. Senator Amidala of Naboo ... has been assassinated."

Gasps broke silence, which then returned, as all attention centered upon the figure of Akhil Palpatine.

"This grievous blow ... is especially personal to me," Akhil added. "Before I became Chancellor, I was a Senator, serving Amidala when she was the Queen of Naboo." Emotion gave his voice a tremolo. "She was a great leader, who tirelessly fought for justice. So beloved was she among her own people that she could have been elected Queen for life!" He sighed, taking another deep breath, seeming to struggle to compose himself.

Utter silence reigned throughout the Senate rotunda. Disbelief and shock were etched on the faces of many of the Senators and aides present.

"But she believed in term limits, and she believed in democracy," said Akhil. "Her death is a great loss to us all. We will all mourn her as a relentless champion of freedom ..." He lowered his head, taking another long, steadying breath. "... and as a dear friend."

Some senators nodded in agreement, a few conversations marring the reverential silence.

The vast respect that Padmé Amidala had commanded amongst her counterparts throughout the Senate was not, however, to be enough to prevent resumption of the debate that had been consuming those who lined the inner walls of the rotunda.

A platform bearing Ask Aak, the Senator of Malastare who himself owed his position to the assassination of his predecessor, floated into the center of the arena.

"How many more Senators will die before this strife ends?" he asked. "We must confront these rebels **now**. We need an army!"

The thoughts of Amidala's eulogy were pushed aside as those in favor of the army voiced their approval; others shouted their disagreement.

The representative of Glee Anselm, Darsana, swooped to join Ask Aak. "Why weren't the Jedi able to prevent this assassination?" he demanded. "How much clearer does it have to be? We are no longer safe under their protection!"

Trailing closely behind, the Twi'lek, Orn Free Taa, moved to join the other two in the center. "The Republic needs more security--now! Now! Before it comes to war!"

"Peace is our objective," said Akhil Palpatine. "Must I remind the Senator from Malastare that negotiations are continuing? We desire peace, not war."

"You say this while your friend lies dead? Assassinated by those very same people with whom you wish to negotiate!" Ask Aak's voice radiated incredulity that the Supreme Chancellor could still cling to the hope of negotiating the separatists back into the Republic. "Did you not just name Amidala as your friend? You would let ..."

Vociferous arguments burst from one box to another. Akhil remained silent, turning to Mas Amedda.

"Order! Senators please!" Mas Amedda vainly tried to bring order to the chaos of the Senate.

The woman who had just entered a platform bore little resemblance to the pilot of starfighter. She wore a fine gown of navy velvet with a panel of golden threads in ornate beading and embroidery in the center. A small diadem held her quickly styled hair in place. She was flanked on one side by Captain Typho and the other by a cloaked and hooded woman who could be none other than one of her handmaidens. Dolphe ably steered the platform slowly toward the center.

As the shouts continued to ring out from one section to another, the platform slowly approached. Akhil Palpatine's eyes widened in shock, as if he had seen a ghost, before he let out a smile.

"My noble colleagues!" Padmé Amidala's voice unexpectedly rang throughout the rotunda, the surprise quieting the shouted arguments. "I concur with the Supreme Chancellor. At all costs, we do not want war."

"It is with great surprise--and joy--that the chair recognizes the Senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala," declared Akhil.

Cheering and clapping replaced the shouting and fist-waving, and then died away as Padmé stood, prepared to speak to the assembly of the Senate.

"Less than an hour ago," began Padmé, her face steeled with determination, "an assassination attempt was made upon my life. An attempt which claimed the lives of eight others. Eight people, ruthlessly and senselessly murdered. Yes, I was the target ... More importantly; this security measure itself was the target. As much as I have led the opposition to building an army, there is someone who will stop at nothing to assure its passage."

As her words registered, the cheers grew quiet. Shouting and disapproval resumed in some corners.

_Oh my friends, I mean no insult! Those who want the army want my silence, but ... I do not know... A tugging in my mind insists that the source of the attempt was opposite of what it would seem,_ thought Padmé. She winced as the memory of Cordé's face and dying words swept over her once more.

"I warn you," said Padmé, collecting herself once more. "I warn you, war will follow if we were to vote to create this army. I have experienced the misery of war ... and I have done so first hand. I do not wish to do so again. None who have experienced war would wish it."

Once more cheers erupted from various sectors of the rotunda.

"This is insanity!" Orn Free Taa shouted over the hubbub. "I move that we defer this vote, immediately!"

"Vote now!" a chant rising from multitudinous platforms.

"No," said Padmé. "Wake up, my friends! If we offer the separatists violence, we will be met with violence in return. We can yet reach to them as brothers, as the dear friends who once shared this very place with us. If we create an army, many will lose their lives. Worse yet, all will lose their freedom! This decision cuts at the very foundation of our great Republic! Do not let fear push you into a disastrous decision. Vote down this security measure ... vote against war. I cannot believe that any here would want war!"

Malastare ... Glee Anselm ... Ryloth ... representatives uneasily exchanged looks over the edges of their platforms amidst the echoes of cheers and boos.

Orn Free Taa said, "By precedence of order, my motion to defer the vote must be dealt with first. That is the rule of law!"

Angrily, Padmé glared at her Twi'lek counterpart. Akhil Palpatine raised his hands, calling for order.

"In view of the lateness of the hour," said Akhil, "and the seriousness of this motion, we shall take up these matters tomorrow. Until then, the Senate stands adjourned."


	5. Chapter 3

A/N: I remain someone other than George Lucas. This means, of course, that I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... The plot, however, has many elements which come from my own imagination, as well as a few original characters and relationships.

You will also note that Jango Fett's presence has been significantly reduced. I thought that it was just a bit too contrived as it was.

* * *

Razi Nartana consulted his datapad once more as the music played in the background. Flickering holographic light was all that reached him in his booth as the waitress brought his steaming cup to him.

As the veiled figure took a seat opposite him, Razi nodded. "You failed."

"You told me to kill those in the Naboo starship," retorted Zam. "How was I to know they'd use a decoy for the target? I did as asked--everyone on the ship was killed."

Razi snorted, his own appearance concealed in a voluminous hooded brown cloak. "You did not hit the target. Nothing else matters. Enough of the past. The client is growing impatient and wants the job completed **now**. You will try something more ... subtle." The datapad slipped into somewhere inside the robes, and then he drew out a long tube.

Zam lifted the tube to peer inside, black eyes sparkling with the excitement.

"Kouhuns. Very poisonous. You will hit additional targets of your choice. Be sure the client's target is amongst them."

Zam nodded.

"There can be no mistakes this time. The client's target must die," said Razi, draining his cup and throwing a handful of credits on the table. "You will not get another chance."

Tapping the tube to her forehead in a salute, Zam acknowledged the instructions.

With that, Razi left. Zam took a moment to conceal the tube, delaying her own departure so as not to draw attention. Then, contemplating her new orders, she returned to her speeder.

xXxXx

The usual traffic clogged the sky, a smoggy haze rising to meet the sun. Above it rose the towers of the Republic Executive Building. Years of collecting had yielded an office filled with priceless _objets d'art _from all corners of the galaxy, an oasis of serenity into which the Jedi had been ushered to meet, once again, with the Supreme Chancellor.

Two red-cloaked guards stood at attention, flanking the door. At his desk, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine regarded his guests, four Jedi.

"There are many on both sides of this grand debate eager to turn this dispute into war," Akhil said. "It is this vote I fear."

Not yet seated, Mace Windu replied, "It is unavoidable."

"It may unravel the remainder of the Republic," stated Akhil. "I've never seen the Senators so at odds with one another."

"There has never been an issue of such grave importance," remarked Ki-Adi-Mundi. "We sense the Senators are growing increasingly anxious and afraid. There may **never** be a more important vote."

"And this way or that, much mending must follow," said Yoda. His eyes closed, ears turning in contemplation.

"I don't know how much longer I can defer the vote." Akhil shook his head, and continued, "It may not matter ... as we delay, we may kill the Republic by attrition as more systems join the separatists. If the attempt on Senator Amidala is not related to local politics ..."

"And, when the vote is done, those unhappy with it may choose to break away." Mace Windu nodded in sympathetic understanding.

Sounding pained, Akhil declared, "I will not let the Republic be split in two! This great Republic has stood for a thousand years ..." He slammed a fist on his desk. "My negotiations must not fail!"

"But if they do fail ..." Mace Windu's voice was calmer than his words would suggest. "There are not enough Jedi to protect the Republic."

Akhil Palpatine looked stunned as he tried to digest what he was being told, his eyes resting on Yoda. "War?" he asked, tremulously.

"Worse, it will be. Much worse." Yoda's eyes opened briefly, before they closed again after his pronouncement.

"What?" Akhil gripped the arm of his chair.

"Master Yoda?" prompted Mace.

"Impossible to see, the future is. Dark Side clouds everything. But this I am sure of ..." Yoda again opened his eyes, staring at Akhil Palpatine. "Do their duty, the Jedi will."

Akhil looked confused, but before he could voice a response, the holographic image of Dar Wac popped atop his desk.

_"The loyalist committee has arrived, my lord,"_ said the Rodian in Huttese.

"Very well, send them in, please," replied Akhil. He turned to regard the Jedi as the image of Dar Wac vanished. "The loyalist committee will be joining us."

Akhil Palpatine and his seated Jedi visitors rose as the hologram disappeared. Soon enough, the body of Senators and aides came into the offices. A flurry of pleasant greetings were exchanged, as Akhil raised a hand and gestured for the conference room.

"We will be more comfortable here," Akhil stated, leading the way into the next room.

Yoda pointedly tapped Padmé to gain her attention. "With you, the Force is strong, young senator. Your tragedy on the landing platform--terrible, it is. Warm feelings to my heart the sight of you brings."

"Thank you, Master Yoda," replied Padmé, following the group into the conference room as Dormé trailed her, Yoda walking beside her. Taking her seat, she asked, "Do you have any idea who was behind this attack?"

The private conversation between Yoda and the esteemed Senator Amidala brought a sudden hush to the room as it was filled with people yet shuffling into position.

"Senator," said Mace, clearing his throat, "we have nothing definitive, but intelligence does point to the spice miners on the moons of Naboo."

Padmé, her hair woven into an elongated basket, shook her head, frowning. _I've seen the miners and their frustrations ... this would make no sense. But ... even less so ... _ "I do not wish to disagree," she stated, finally, "but I feel that Count Austerus was behind it."

This statement brought a stir of surprise rippling about the room as those present looked astonished or disapproving.

Recovering himself, Mace said, "M'lady--Count Austerus was once a Jedi. No matter how far he has fallen, it would not be in his character to ... assassinate **anyone**."

"He is a political idealist," rumbled Horox Ryyder.

"Indeed, I once knew him," added Ki-Adi-Mundi, "and I cannot believe he would become a murderer."

Yoda closed his eyes, ears laying back for a moment before he opened them briefly to gaze at Padmé. "In dark times, nothing appears as it is. But facts remain, Senator Amidala, in grave danger you are."

Akhil walked over to the window, staring at the early morning traffic, and sighed. "Master Jedi," he asked, turning to face them, "may I suggest that the Senator be placed under the protection of your graces?"

Orn Free Taa interjected, "Chancellor--do you think that a wise use of our limited resources at this stressful time? Thousands of systems have gone over to the separatists, and many more may soon join them. The Jedi ..."

"If I may, Chancellor," said Padmé, "I do not believe the ..."

"Situation is that serious?" said Akhil, finishing her thought, but as a question. "No, perhaps you do not. But I do, Senator."

"Chancellor, please!" protested Padmé, "I do not wish to have more guards."

"I realize all too well that additional security might be disruptive for you," said Akhil, "but surely the Jedi can ..."

"It's not necessary, Chancellor," declared Padmé.

"Do it for me, m'lady. Please, I will rest easier," pleaded Akhil.

"Indeed," concurred Bail, throwing in his support with the Chancellor, "the thought of losing you is unbearable."

"If we may, Chancellor," said Mace, "we will withdraw now and let your meeting with the committee continue. I am certain we can find an acceptable solution."

Akhil nodded his approval, and the four Jedi rose to depart.

"Too little about yourself you worry, Senator," said Yoda, tapping the floor with his cane. "Politics, you worry too much about. Be mindful of your danger, young one. Accept our help."

Padmé closed her eyes and nodded her acquiescence. As the Jedi left the room, she looked at the door for a great period before the Chancellor's words drew her attention to business once more.

xXxXx

Leaving the air taxi, Mace deliberately slowed his steps to keep pace with the diminutive Yoda.

"It troubles me to hear Count Austerus's name mentioned in the way Senator Amidala did, Master," began Mace. "Particularly from one so esteemed as Senator Amidala. Mistrust of the Jedi--even of a former Jedi--would be disastrous."

"Deny his involvement in the separatist movement, we cannot," replied Yoda.

"We cannot deny either that he began the movement because of his ideals. He was once our friend--that which we must not forget!" Mace's face revealed how troubled he was. "To hear him slandered and named as an assassin ..."

"Not named," returned Yoda. "Darkness there is, all about us. Nothing is what it seems."

"It doesn't make sense," persisted Mace. "Why would Count Austerus be behind an attempt on Senator Amidala's life? She is one most adamantly opposed to the creation of the army, and to the continuation of negotiations--is that not what the separatists want?"

They reached the chamber. Yoda clambered into his seat, and closed his eyes. "More is here than we can know. Clouded, the Force is. Troubling it is."

Mace opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it again. _I remember when Rex told us ... many of the same reasons I hear from the separatists now--the Republic is too ungainly and too large, and unresponsive to the needs of the individual. Worse--I cannot say that those arguments are not without merit._

The two Jedi remained in their separate contemplations for some time before two young women entered.

"Masters," said the first, "you sent for us?"

Mace looked at the two Jedi. Both female humans, near the same size as Senator Amidala, and if one did not look closely, were almost a replica in appearance to the handmaidens of the esteemed Senator.

"Pemba, we have an assignment for you and your padawan," said Mace. "We will need you to appear to take on the position of handmaidens to Senator Amidala."

"Master?" queried Pemba. "Two Jedi to protect one senator?"

"We believe another attempt will be made," said Mace. "You are both capable, and the Senator has ... lost two handmaidens already. She objects, but the Chancellor has commanded ... In this way, we may perhaps alleviate some of her concerns about the level of security, since she is accustomed to having handmaidens with her."

"Yes, Master, I understand," replied Pemba. "We shall report directly, then."

xXxXx

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker stood in the turbo lift, ascending as they watched the play of natural starlight peer through the glare surrounding the Senate apartment complex.

"You seem a little on edge, Anakin," noted Obi-Wan.

"Not at all."

"Don't bother," replied Obi-Wan. "I know you too well. You haven't been this nervous since we fell into that nest of gundarks."

"**You** fell into that, Master, and I rescued you," retorted Anakin.

Obi-Wan merely chuckled. "You're sweating. Take a deep breath--relax."

"I haven't seen her in eight years."

"Anakin, relax," repeated Obi-Wan. "She's not the queen anymore."

As the lift door opened, Anakin muttered, "That's not why I'm nervous."

Sharesca L'greq opened the door. "Master Kenobi! It's so good to see you and Anakin."

For a moment, Obi-Wan stared at the "handmaiden" dressed in a deep navy blue, her brown hair piled high, and then smiled in recognition. "You look quite like a handmaiden," he said.

Sharesca nodded, and said, "Please, come inside. I'm sure the senator will be happier to see you than she is to see us."

"Master Onika is here as well, then?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Yes, she is," replied Sharesca. "Although, I think if the Chancellor hadn't ordered this, the senator would've sent us packing."

Beyond the entry, the apartment was tastefully decorated with upholstered chairs and a divan,with artworks from Naboo displayed near the walls. Against the back, Captain Typho stood, dressed in his blue uniform with brown leather tunic. Flanking the divan, Dormé and Pemba dressed in the same garb as Sharesca.

Upon the divan, Padmé was still dressed as she had been for the early morning meeting with the Chancellor and the rest of the Loyalist Committee. She wore black and deep purple, her hair still woven in the basketlike frame.

"Master Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker to see you, m'lady," announced Sharesca, as she walked back to stand near Captain Typho.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, m'lady," said Obi-Wan, apparently unaware of Anakin's current resemblance to a landed fish.

"It has been far too long, Master Kenobi," replied Padmé, her eyes darting over Anakin before returning to look at Obi-Wan. "I'm glad that our paths have crossed."

"The Council asked us to pay a call to see how your ... new handmaidens are settling in," stated Obi-Wan.

"I must warn you, I find their presence quite unnecessary," answered Padmé.

"I'm sure the Council has their reasons," replied Obi-Wan.

A look of resignation flittered across Padmé's face, and then she stood, stepping once to the side to look directly at Anakin.

"Dee?" she asked, looking incredulous.

Anakin smiled, feeling his spirit leap.

"Dee! Can it be?" continued Padmé. "My goodness, you've grown!"

A slight flush crept over Anakin's face. "So have you," replied Anakin. _Oh, kriff._ "Grown more beautiful I mean." He cleared his throat. "And much shorter ..." _Kriff, I'm just making it worse!_ "For a senator, I mean." _Just shut up before you fit both feet in there!_

Obi-Wan turned, shaking his head slightly in disapproval.

"Oh, Dee, you'll always be that boy I knew on Tatooine." Padmé laughed lightly.

Anakin felt himself redden as both Captain Typho and Obi-Wan looked at him.

"I do think they are near invisible, m'lady," said Obi-Wan, looking across to Pemba and Sharesca. "Certainly, if the numbers of your handmaidens are still a secret ..."

"I am grateful they are here," Captain Typho rumbled from his position by the wall. "The situation is far more dangerous than the Senator will admit."

"I don't need more security," snapped Padmé. "I want answers. I need to know who is trying to kill me. I believe that there might be an issue of great importance to the Senate behind this--something more behind this, just as there was with the Federation when we first met, Master Kenobi."

"We're here to protect you, m'lady," said Pemba. "Not start an investigation."

"We'll find out who's trying to kill you, Padmé," blurted Anakin. "I promise you."

There was no denial of the disapproval in Obi-Wan's expression here, nor the sharpness of his tone. "We should not exceed the wishes of the Council, Padawan Skywalker!"

"It would be in the interest of protecting her, Master," said Anakin, face aflame.

"You are to follow my lead, Anakin," said Obi-Wan. "We will not go through this exercise again."

"Why?" protested Anakin.

"What!?" exclaimed Sharesca. Her eyes were wide with the shock of a padawan behaving in such a manner.

"Why else do you think they were assigned to protect her?" insisted Anakin. "Protection is a job for local security, not Jedi. It's overkill, Master."

"We will do as the Council has instructed," reprimanded Obi-Wan. "And you will learn your place, young one."

"Perhaps the mysteries surrounding this threat will be revealed by their presence," said Padmé. "Now, if you wish to discuss Council matters ..." She paused, smiling at the four Jedi present. "If you will excuse me, I must retire."

With that Padmé, trailed by Dormé, exited the room.

Obi-Wan gave Anakin another long look after Padmé and Dormé had gone.

Attempting to diffuse the awkward situation, Captain Typho said, "Well, I know that I am glad to have these ladies here. I may not know what's going on here, but I don't think there is such a thing as too much security for the Senator right now. Your friends on the Jedi Council seem to think that the miners have something to do with this ..."

"What have you learned?" asked Anakin, picking up Captain Typho's disbelief as he was simultaneously skewered by warning looks from Obi-Wan, Pemba, and Sharesca. "You'll be better able to protect the Senator if you have some idea what we're up against," he explained.

"We don't have much," admitted Captain Typho. "Senator Amidala leads the opposition to the creation of the army, as you know. She's firmly committed to deal with the separtists through negotiation rather than force. Yet these attempts on her life, even though they've failed, only strengthen support for the creation of an Army."

"And since the separatists, logically, would not want to see the Republic form an army ..." mused Obi-Wan.

"We're left without a clue," concluded Captain Typho. "Except, it is true that the first questioning eyes were turned toward Count Austerus ..." At Obi-Wan's frown, Typho hastily added, "or to some loyal to his movement. But why go after Senator Amidala ..."

"In any case," said Pemba, "we are here to protect, not to guess."

Hearing the firmness in the Jedi's tone, Captain Typho bowed, and said, "I'll have an officer on every floor, and you can find me at the command center downstairs."

With that, Captain Typho left the room.

"The apartments are vast," said Pemba, "but our assignment keeps us close to the Senator. I cannot agree with your padawan, Master Kenobi. We have our mandate ..."

"I know," replied Obi-Wan. "What shall we tell the Council about how you are settling in?"

"We have settled in as best the Senator will allow," replied Pemba. "Publicly, we perform the duties of handmaiden, but ... privately, in the apartment here, she only allows Dormé to attend her."

"But if we don't know who is behind it," protested Anakin. "Master--it's overkill to merely protect an individual with Jedi. Surely ..."

"It is not merely the individual of the Senator herself," said Sharesca, giving Anakin a near incredulous look before she continued, "but all those who favor the continuation of negotiation. If Senator Amidala were killed, as little sense as it makes for the separatists to wish it, there would be voice as equally elegant in speaking against the army. We have our job, and we are doing it."


	6. Chapter 4

A/N: I remain someone other than George Lucas. This means, of course, that I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... The plot, however, has many elements which come from my own imagination, as well as a few original characters and relationships.

* * *

Dormé carefully unplaited Padmé's hair from the basket frame. "If I didn't know better, I would think that young padawan is smitten with you, m'lady." She put the frame back into its box, closing the velvet-lined lid over it.

"Dee?" said Padmé. "He certainly did seem ... awkward. But please, don't you start too."

"Too?" asked Dormé, as she began to free Padmé from the multi-buttoned gown.

"My sister thinks I'm getting too old for politics, and that I should settle down and start a family," explained Padmé.

"Oh, I didn't mean that at all, m'lady," replied Dormé.

"I cannot help but think that this many Jedi about is overkill," said Padmé, as Dormé continued her work while ubiquitous security cameras traced their movements. "It's not necessary."

"M'lady, you fight an uphill battle there," said Dormé, helping her into the nightgown. "No one else seems to agree with you."

"No one?" asked Padmé pointedly.

"I'm afraid not, m'lady," replied Dormé, placing a quilted silk robe on the foot of Padmé's bed. "Will you have further need of me tonight?"

"No. Thank you, Dormé," responded Padmé. As Dormé slipped into the next bedroom, she sat back at her table, facing the mirror to brush through her hair.

_He did seem smitten, enough to disregard the disapproval from Master Kenobi. "... grown more beautiful..."_ She pulled the brush sharply through her hair, heedless of the snarl that caused her scalp to protest in response. _As though I haven't heard that a thousand times over ... but what is it that he would want? It's simple enough with the other Senators. They ask me to dinner, sure we discuss business, and that they're concerned enough with whether I can help their cause or not, but that's not the only thing on their minds._

_There's no denying the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me, though. But what's it mean? He was looking at me with ... longing?_ Padmé stopped brushing her hair for a moment, and looked at her reflection, startled by the course of her thoughts. She shook her head. _No, it doesn't matter. It's just my imagination. Dee--Anakin--is a Jedi now. They have their dedication, their oath--I admire that in the Jedi, but ..._ She went back to brushing her hair. _Even if I didn't imagine it, I could never admire someone who would forsake his oath._

xXxXx

Window by window, Zam watched her droid work, chewing a lip as she waited to make certain that **this** time, she could collect her bounty. It carefully cut a hole and inserted an open-ended tube, allowing the milk-white centipedes to scuttle into the room. Easing the transparisteel back into place, it moved on to the next window she chose, as she waited in her speeder for the droid to finish its work.

Meanwhile, in the main room of Senator Amidala's apartments, Anakin was pacing while the three Jedi awaited Pemba's return from inspecting Captain Typho's work.

"Sit down, Anakin," said Obi-Wan. "When Master Onika has returned, we will go."

"I'd rather be here," said Anakin. "It's just ... we should be more aggressive. To sit back like this and wait is to invite disaster."

"Master Kenobi doesn't agree with you," observed Sharesca.

"You need to mind your thoughts," reproved Obi-Wan, walking Anakin away from Sharesca.

Anakin made a face.

"Your thoughts betray you, Anakin," scolded Obi-Wan. "You made a commitment to the Jedi Order, a commitment not easily broken, and the Jedi stance on such relationships as the ones your thoughts betray is uncompromising. Such attachment is forbidden. Beyond that, don't forget she's a politician. You can't trust them."

"She isn't like other politicians," protested Anakin.

"In my experience, it is only a matter of time," said Obi-Wan. "All Senators soon focus on pleasing those who fund their campaigns, to get those funds and forget the niceties of democracy."

"Not another lecture, Master," groaned Anakin. "At least, not on the economics of politics."

"It is true," said Obi-Wan, "I have seen it time and time again."

"You're generalizing," protested Anakin. "I know that Padmé ..."

"Senator Amidala," corrected Obi-Wan.

"Isn't like that," concluded Anakin. "And the Chancellor ..."

"Is very clever at following the passions and prejudices of the Senators."

"I think he is a good man," said Anakin, remembering the times that Chancellor Palpatine had spoken with him whenever he and Obi-Wan were on Coruscant. "I'm sure ..."

Both men's eyes widened at the same time, and without another word or thought, they rushed to the bedroom where Padmé lay sleeping.

Cause for alarm ... a milk-white centipede scuttled on multitudes of black legs. Mandibles clicking, the creature climbed the bedding to reach the bed's occupant.

Anakin's lightsaber flashed blue, cleaving the centipede in two, as Obi-Wan crashed through the window to seize hold of the droid which had delivered the creature.

In the distance, Zam cursed, her speeder moving away from the scene. The droid bobbed with the added weight of a man, and then set off from the building trailing Zam.

"Dee?" said Padmé, wakening to see the blue blade so close.

"Stay here!" ordered Anakin, as he started from the room.

Sharesca had just set foot in the doorway as Anakin roughly pushed her out of the way. "See to her!" he ordered, and continued as Captain Typho and Pemba came running up. "See to her!" repeated Anakin, and he raced out of the apartment. _Now this is more like it!_

The assassin droid had been built with defenses, though perhaps the manufacturer had not expected the foolhardiness of a man who would leap from a window some hundreds of stories above the ground of Coruscant to seize the droid. Nonetheless, bright blue lightning arced over the round surface of the device, outlining Obi-Wan against the darkness of the sky.

Heedless of where he was running, Anakin raced through the building. A turbolift, its doors stubbornly shut. _We don't have time for this!_ Effortlessly, his lightsaber cut through the butter which was turbolift door, forcing them apart. Leaping into the shaft, he tried to orient himself as he adjusted to the surroundings. _Where is the closest docking bay?_

Question unanswered, Anakin realized that the turbolift was hurtling upward towards him. In an instant, he reached out with the Force to bring himself to land, unhurt, atop the speeding car. Lightsaber hissing, the catch of the top hatch shattered and he pulled it open to leap inside.

Tessek Tikkes and Lexi Dio cried out their alarm as Anakin landed, cat-like, in their midst.

"Docking bay level?" demanded Anakin.

"Forty-seven," replied Lexi.

"Too late," added Tessek. "Next is sixty ..."

Too impatient for this, Anakin reached out into the Force again, forcing the car to a halt which threw the two Senators flat against the car floor.

"C'mon! Open!" shouted the impatient Anakin.

Hauling herself from the floor, Lexi shook her head. Then holding a finger up in the galaxy-wide "wait" gesture, she pressed a button which opened the door ... midfloor.

"Thanks!" cried Anakin as he squeezed himself out onto the floor below, looking left and right until he caught sight of an open balcony.

"Daft!" the senator's word carried on the air behind Anakin as the doors slid shut again.

Heedless of the opinion, Anakin ran to the balcony and leapt over a line of parked speeders. Finding one open-canopied vehicle, he vaulted into it. Firing it up, he zoomed into traffic.

_Luck or the Force ... I think I'll need them both. _Anakin stretched out with his mind.

xXxXx

_It was supposed to be ... straightforward,_ thought Zam as she moved into traffic. _Complicated doesn't begin to describe it, not with the protections that Senator has ... Oh, no ... that's a Jedi ... This time I can't fail. The price of failure will be worse than just no payment!_

She saw the droid bobbing along, the man in unmistakable Jedi robes clinging to the round machine. Zam couldn't help but wince as the droid slammed into a building, the blow failing to knock him loose. Into traffic, it dragged the man into the exhaust of a speeder ... _No! How ... oh ... if only ... This is entertaining, but ... I won't get paid this way ..._

Zam moved off to the sidelines of traffic, hovering as she reached for her blaster rifle. Casually taking aim, she fired, the shots scattering around man and machine. Yet, he had managed to dodge or block, as the ball of a machine still held its unexpected cargo.

"Block this!" she muttered. _At least this bounty will more than make up for it ... I'll go back and make sure after I've dealt with him._

Once more she took careful aim and fired ... at the droid. In a shower of sparks, the droid exploded, and the Jedi fell from her sight. _Now, to make sure._

xXxXx

Obi-Wan fell too quickly to react. Hundreds of stories were yet between him and the ground, and he could do nothing but plummet.

The yellow speeder swooped under and just slightly beside him. Obi-Wan, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, seized the side, preparing to haul himself into a seat over the open top, and then saw Anakin's grin.

"Hitchhikers usually stand on the platforms," Anakin drawled. "Novel approach--good way to get attention from passing traffic."

Levering himself into the speeder, Obi-Wan made no rejoinder.

"Almost lost you there," quipped Anakin, as though it had been a mere exercise and not a matter of life-or-death.

"What took you so long?" said Obi-Wan, catching his breath as his lungs were no longer too compressed to draw air.

"Oh, you know how it is, Master," said Anakin insouciantly. "Not just any speeder will do ... No, I had to find one with an open cockpit, the right engine ... and of course, only the right--"

"There!" shouted Obi-Wan, pointing to another speeder.

As the speeder soared above and past them, Anakin moved into pursuit. An arm extended, a blaster pistol fired a series of shots as Anakin moved through a sequence of evasive turns.

"If only you'd spend the time training your lightsaber skills than your wit," observed Obi-Wan, ducking. "You could be the rival of Master Yoda."

"I thought I already was."

"Only in your mind ... Careful!" Obi-Wan reflexively ducked as Anakin cut off two speeders. "You know how I feel ..."

"Sorry, forgot you don't like flying, Master," quipped Anakin, his voice taking on an odd tone as he went into a sharp dive to avoid blaster bolts.

"Flying is one thing ... This is attempted suicide!"

Anakin cut a hard right, dropped, sped up, and found himself back in the line of fire. He cut left, trying for a good shot. Just as suddenly, his quarry dove to one side as a commuter train bore down upon the two Jedi. Certain he would die now, Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk." Anakin's voice was impossibly casual as he evaded the commuter train. "I'm very good at this."

"Pay attention!" barked Obi-Wan, as a line of giant trucks bore down on them.

Around and around they went, cutting fast corners through the traffic, heedless of the sudden course corrections their maneuvers forced.

"He can't lose me," boasted Anakin. "He's getting desperate."

Seeing Anakin intent on entering a tram tunnel, Obi-Wan ordered, "Wait! Don't go in there!"

Nonetheless, Anakin did so, and then reversed just as quickly, barely ahead of the huge train and its frantic horn.

"Sorry, Master," said Anakin. "Don't worry, this guy's going to kill himself any minute now."

"Let him do so alone," returned Obi-Wan.

Their quarry zoomed into traffic, heading the wrong way in the lane. Anakin raced directly behind. They zigged then zagged, frantically avoiding the traffic they sped through. Occasionally, Anakin had to avoid the blaster bolts fired from the would-be assassin he chased. The next thing they knew, the lead speeder darted up suddenly, straight into a tight loop to move into a stalking position.

"Nice one." Anakin slammed on brakes and reversing thrust, came alongside the other speeder.

"What are you doing?!" Obi-Wan was faced almost directly in front of the blaster. "He's going to shoot me!"

"Right," said Anakin, maneuvering out of the line of fire. "This isn't working."

"Glad you noticed," replied Obi-Wan dryly, dodging a blast.

Moving below the vehicle, Anakin chortled, "He can't shoot us down here."

The assassin's speeder cut out of traffic and skimmed the roof of a nearby building. Anakin just barely edged over the rooftop into another craft, coming in low.

"Anakin, he's landing!" shouted Obi-Wan. "On us."

Anakin flipped the speeder to one side, zipping around a corner to clip a flagpole, dragging the cloth behind him as he moved back into pursuit.

"Clear that!" said Anakin as the flag caught into an air scoop.

"What?"

"Clear the flag! We're losing power! Hurry!" urged Anakin.

Complaining under his breath, Obi-Wan bent low and pulled the flag free only to be thrown against the back of his seat as the speeder lurched forward with renewed power.

"He's headed for the power refinery," announced Obi-Wan. "But take it easy--it's too dangerous by those power couplings."

Banking right, then left, Anakin zoomed directly by one of those couplings despite Obi-Wan's warning, as electrical bolts arced over their speeder.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin apologized insincerely.

Despite the blinding effect of the lightning arcs, Anakin brought the speeder right, left, right, up, over, down, around ... and incredibly, through to the other side.

"Oh, that was good," said Obi-Wan.

"That was crazy." For once, Anakin had been rattled by his actions. "But we got him now!"

The assassin they pursued had slid sideways around a corner between two buildings. As Anakin pursued, he found the assassin's speeder had stopped with blaster pistol aimed and bolts firing as they came into view.

"Blast," said Anakin, realizing the way had been partially blocked and his speed too great to come to a stop.

Finally managing to draw enough breath to speak again, Obi-Wan cried, "Stop!"

"No, we can make it," insisted Anakin.

He dove below the speeder, then up an edge, scraping through the narrowest gap only to find the space blocked by a mesh of pipes without sufficient room to continue. Clipping some struts, their damage created a fiery gas ball, and Anakin went into a seemingly uncontrolled spin in an effort to escape.

"We made it," proclaimed Anakin as they bounced off a building and stalled.

"No, we didn't," said Obi-Wan. "We've stalled."

"Well, we're still alive," joked Anakin.

"That was stupid!" declared Obi-Wan.

Trying desperately to get the speeder restarted, Anakin said, "I could've made it."

"But you didn't. And now we've lost him."

Proving Obi-Wan's words wrong, a hail of blaster bolts around them set off more explosions, rocking the speeder. As they watched, the assassin's speeder began to sail away.

"No, we didn't," declared Anakin as he succeeded in restarting the speeder. A sudden thrust which pasted them both to the back of their seats, Anakin set off in pursuit once more, grinning broadly.

Obi-Wan beat down the flames still erupting from the control panels as they dashed into the main travel lanes again. Dodging and cutting close corners, they raced after the assassin until the other speeder made a hard left turn and Anakin went right and up.

"Where are you going?" said Obi-Wan. "He went that way, down there."

"This is a short cut," replied Anakin. "I think."

"What do you mean you **think**?!" exclaimed Obi-Wan. "What kind of shortcut--we're going the wrong way and you've lost him now."

"Master, if we keep going this way," said Anakin, "he's going to end up deep-fried or something. I want to find out who he is and who he's working for."

"Which is why we're going the wrong way," replied Obi-Wan. "You've lost him."

Anakin sighed and went straight up, hovering above another building. "I'm deeply sorry, Master." Anakin's tone rang with insincerity, however.

Obi-Wan was about to castigate Anakin, but before he could speak, Anakin stood up.

"Excuse me for a moment." With that, Anakin stepped off the side of the speeder.

Obi-Wan lurched over to the seat with the controls, staring down as Anakin landed on the roof of the speeder they had been chasing. "I hate it when he does that."

Far below him, as Obi-Wan took control of the speeder, he could see Anakin slice through the roof of the speeder with his lightsaber until a blaster bolt took it from his hand. With a shake of his head, Obi-Wan angled the speeder to intercept his comrade's falling weapon.

Anakin, meanwhile, reached through the hole he had created--as he and the assassin struggled for the blaster, the speeder careened out of control, skidding to a halt in a shower of sparks along a broken section of permacrete. Anakin, thrown by the impact, regained his feet just in time to see the assassin spring from the speeder and run out of sight. Chasing after his intended target through muddy puddles, Anakin saw the helmeted would-be killer dash into a doorway just as he heard his name.

"Anakin!"

_Obi-Wan!_ Anakin turned as he recognized the voice. "She went into that club, Master."

"Patience. Use the Force, Anakin--think," replied Obi-Wan.

"Sorry, Master."

"He went in there to hide, not run."

"Yes, Master."

Holding out Anakin's lightsaber, he added, "Next time, try not to lose it."

"Sorry, Master."

As Anakin reached to take his lightsaber, Obi-Wan pulled it out of Anakin's reach, and fixed his padawan with a stern look. "A Jedi's lightsaber is his most precious possession."

"Yes, Master," said Anakin as he reached for his weapon.

Obi-Wan still keeping his eyes locked with Anakin's reproached him firmly, "He must keep it with him at all times."

"I **know**, Master," replied Anakin, sounding exasperated. _Why does he have to lecture me __**now?**__ The assassin will get away, and Padmé will still be in danger._

"This weapon is your life."

"I've heard this lesson before," complained Anakin.

"But you haven't learned anything, Anakin," said Obi-Wan, finally allowing Anakin to retrieve the lightsaber from his grasp.

"I try, Master."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Why do I think you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that!" protested Anakin. "Master, you're the closest thing I have to a father--I don't want to cause you pain."

"Then why don't you listen to me?"

"I will. I'll do better, I promise," replied Anakin.

"Do you see him?" said Obi-Wan as he glanced about the club they had just entered.

"I think he's a she."

"Then be extra careful."

"And I think she's a changeling," added Anakin.

"Go and find her," said Obi-Wan, gesturing in one direction while starting to walk in another.

"Where are you going, Master?"

"To get a drink," stated Obi-Wan.

Anakin stood, dumbfounded, for a moment as Obi-Wan headed for the bar. Then, remembering the lecture he had just received, he started milling through the crowds as people stared at his gleaming white robes with open hostility.

At the bar, Obi-Wan gestured to the bartender, receiving an amber-colored drink in return. Anakin watched, a sense of unease growing.

Anakin did not see the blaster pistol rising up to the apparently unsuspecting Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan spun, igniting his lightsaber. An arm still grasping a blaster fell to the floor in one direction, the would-be assassin shrieking in agony in the other.

Bristling with a nervous energy, the crowd reacted with angry murmurs.

"Easy! Go back to your drinks," called Anakin, moving to Obi-Wan's side. "Official business. Go back to your drinks, everyone."

As the murmured conversations started again, Obi-Wan and Anakin walked their quarry onto the street.

"Do you know who it was you were trying to kill?" asked Obi-Wan.

"It was just a job," said Zam.

"Tell us!" said Anakin. "Who hired you?"

The eyes of the bounty hunter glared hatefully. "It won't end with me."

"This wound is going to need more treatment than I can give it here," stated Obi-Wan.

"Who hired you?" said Anakin, throwing the weight of the Force behind his questions. "Why are you trying to kill Padmé?"

Lips twitching, Zam fought the compulsion to answer, and a crunching sound was heard from within her mouth. "Rah ..." With that, she died, her features twisting grotesquely, before coming to rest in the lumpy figure of her true Clawdite form though her skin was tinted blue from the poison released from the glass tooth in her mouth.


	7. Chapter 5

A/N: I am still neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Please enjoy this installment.

* * *

Maleena Durame scanned through the story as the final preparations were being made for the newscast. _ A few years ago, such a piece would have been shocking,_ she reflected. _Not now. How many does that make this year? Twenty-seven Senators dead, and it would've been twenty-eight. They'll forget this story soon enough though, it's not like yesterday's attempted assassination with Senator Padmé Amidala reappearing in the Senate._

"Ready."

Maleena shook herself, concentrating once more on the words and looked up, forming her face into a false smile, the mask of her profession.

"Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ..." The lights went on as the broadcast went live.

"Good morning. News from Galactic City, Coruscant. An assassin in the night used the unusual weapon of kouhuns to cut a swath of death through 500 Republica. The dead are eleven senators and fifteen aides, along with thirty security officers from who gave their lives to slay the deadly kouhuns and prevent further deaths. Cheating death a second time in as many days is Senator Padmé Amidala who was fortunate enough to have Jedi visitors at the time of the attack.

"The Senator's guests, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Anakin Skywalker gave pursuit of the assassin, who has been identified as the Clawdite Zam Wessell. Upon capture, the assassin committed suicide before yielding answers about her employer.

"Among the dead are Senators Zorlaa, Kazth Zabdar, Esryn Kayl'vel ..." She continued reading a litany of names. "Their deaths and the deaths of their aides and security officers saddens us all.

"More on this story as it develops. In other news ..."

Obi-Wan turned off the sound with a weary sigh.

"We made the news," said Anakin.

"That isn't a good thing, my young Padawan," replied Obi-Wan. "We do not serve the Republic just to make the news. A good Jedi's service should not draw attention to him."

"We have to be doing something right," said Anakin. "The Council wants to see us."

"There is no guarantee of that conclusion in the Council's desire to see us," replied Obi-Wan with a shake of his head.

xXxXx

The Jedi Temple had been designed to invite the mind to wander and explore. One of the great Jedi tenets was that art was a conscious link to the mysteries of the Force, and so the Temple was filled with collections of it from all quarters of the galaxy.

"Why could we not foresee these attacks on the Senators?" asked Mace, as he walked down one of the many polished corridors with Yoda. "It shouldn't have come to a surprise to us--to anyone wary, it should have been foreseen, yet ..."

"Disturbance in the Force masking the future, it is," replied Yoda wearily.

"The dark side is growing." Mace did not like to admit this fact, but it seemed impossible to ignore. _The prophecy is coming true, then ... in our lifetimes._

"And when grows the dark side, only those who have turned so can sense the possibilities of the future with ease," stated Yoda. "Only by probing the dark side can we see."

_And that is a path of great danger. It's even worse to think that the disturbance is rooted in the dark side. We have all felt it ..._ Finally, daring to speak aloud, Mace remarked, "It's been ten years, and the Sith still have not shown themselves. Do you think that they are behind this present disturbance?"

"Out there, they are," replied Yoda, with resignation. "A certainty that is."

"Do **you **think Obi-Wan's padawan will be able to bring balance to the Force?" asked Mace as they neared the chamber at the end of their walk.

"Only if he chooses to follow his destiny," replied Yoda.

The doors swung open, and Mace and Yoda took their seats in the circle of Masters around Obi-Wan and Anakin.

"We have come together to discuss the matter of the most recent wave of assassinations. Do you have any leads on this murderer?" asked Mace, looking to Obi-Wan.

"I am afraid we continue to be without answers," replied Obi-Wan. "We know that this assassin was a Clawdite--professional bounty hunter by the name of Zam Wessell. At this time, we cannot be certain that the inclusion of Senator Amidala was a direct attempt on her, or whether it was a broader attempt at destabilizing the Republic."

"What do your feelings tell you?" asked Mace.

"They meant to kill Padmé," blurted out Anakin.

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a slight shake of his head, and said, "I do not believe there is a difference. Senator Amidala's position should lead to negotiations which bring a peaceful resolution to the crisis. To attack her personally is to attack the stability of the Republic, for I cannot think of another voice of equal eloquence paired with such dedication to take her place."

"There are the others on the Loyalist Committee," observed Plo Koon.

"They are not Senator Amidala of Naboo," said Ki-Adi-Mundi. "The crisis a decade ago gives weight to her position today. The fact that she has been personally threatened, yet does not waver--no, there is no equal, and that is why she remains a target, I feel."

"Senator Amidala is well-protected now," said Mace Windu. "We have two Jedi positioned as her handmaidens ..."

"It wouldn't have been enough," interrupted Anakin.

"Padawan Skywalker, mind your place," said Mace.

"I'm sorry, Masters." Anakin's head was bowed, as he clearly did not want to meet the eyes of Obi-Wan at the moment.

"It was a near thing." Obi-Wan made a deferential nod of the head to Mace and Yoda. "I feel that the situation will not improve while the vote is yet pending. Once it has been cast ... well, we cannot know. I have a very bad feeling about this vote, as though it ..."

"Threaten the heart of the Republic, it does," said Yoda. "Yes, feel it too, I do."

"We wish that you and Padawan Skywalker continue in the efforts to discover who hired this assassin," stated Mace.

"And what of Senator Amidala?" said Obi-Wan.

"Master Onika and her padawan will continue their assignment," replied Mace.

"The Senator does not like the additional security," said Obi-Wan.

"Until caught this killer is," said Yoda, "our judgment must she respect."

"Do not worry over Senator Amidala--she is protected," added Mace. "You must see to the task of finding the one hiring the assassin. And may the Force be with you."

"Thank you," said Obi-Wan, gesturing for Anakin to follow him as they departed.

Once outside the room, Obi-Wan said, "Anakin, you cannot speak like that out of turn. You are to follow my lead, not ..."

"I'm sorry, Master," said Anakin.

"It reflects poorly on us both," said Obi-Wan. "And you are far too familiar in speaking of Senator Amidala."

"But Padmé ..." began Anakin.

"May I remind you **again** that you have made a commitment to the Jedi Order. You know the Jedi stance forbids attachments," replied Obi-Wan. "She is **Senator Amidala** ... a politician. And don't forget, politicians cannot be trusted."

"She's not like the others in the Senate," protested Anakin.

"In my experience, they all are the same, to one degree or another," replied Obi-Wan. "They follow those who fund their campaigns ..."

"Not another lecture, Master," groaned Anakin. "Besides, you're over-generalizing, and not being fair to her. I know Padmé ..."

"Senator Amidala," corrected Obi-Wan.

"Isn't like that," finished Anakin as though Obi-Wan's correction had never taken place. "And the Chancellor ..."

"Palpatine is a politician, a very deft one," said Obi-Wan. "He carefully follows the passions and prejudices of the Senate."

"I think he's a good man," replied Anakin. "My instincts ..."

"I hope you are correct, my padawan," replied Obi-Wan. "But these are difficult times for the Republic, and we cannot allow ourselves attachments to particular individuals which might blind us."

"Yes, Master," replied Anakin, hoping for a quick end to the lecture.

"I would, however, pay a call to speak with Master Onika," said Obi-Wan. "There is more that I might discuss with her regarding the assassin. Do mind your place when we call."

"Yes, Master," answered Anakin.

xXxXx

Maleena Durame read from her prompter, "We now go to Senator Darsana of Glee Anselm for more on this story."

The Senator stood amidst a number of aides and security surrounded by the reporters.

"How many Senators must die before we take action? We have lost far too many already! And now, eleven more have died--the only one who did not perish was already under Jedi protection. Yet, we know there are not enough Jedi to provide such protection to all of us. We **must** create an Army of the Republic. Only then will we be safe.

"You will hear some say that we must not do so, for we would force the separatists into violence. I tell you, the separatists are already committed to a course of violence. Our lack of resistance will only mean the deaths of many of our best and brightest--Senators who had much to offer the Republic, and whose voices are now stilled. How many more must we lose before we say enough? I say ... no more!

"Our way of life is under attack, and we must not allow them to win. When the senate session resumes, I pledge to you that I will fight for the safety and security of all those who remain in the Republic against those who would see our way of life destroyed."

Cheers erupted from the audience.

"Turn it off," said Padmé, looking at the holovid. "I can't believe he doesn't see--to vote for an army is to play into the hands of the separatists."

"Nonetheless, we do need to consider your security before the senate session resumes," said Captain Typho. "Emotions are running very high, and assassination seems to make the headlines only when there are many killed. One senator doesn't rate the front page any more, but I still have my duty."

"And just what is it that you intend?" said Padmé. "How many security officers do you think are necessary?"

"Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan are here," said another security officer. "I am sorry to interrupt."

"Don't be sorry," replied Padmé. "Bring them in."

A few moments later, Obi-Wan and Anakin entered the room.

"We were discussing matters of assuring the Senator's security in these times," said Captain Typho. "I am glad that you are here again."

"The senate is in recess," said Anakin. "It would be a good opportunity ..."

"No, absolutely not," said Padmé as Anakin's intention dawned on her. "I won't stand for someone else being put in harm's way on my account like that!"

"The use of a decoy has already been compromised," said Captain Typho. "The assassin knows that the second attempt failed for that reason ..."

"Which is why it would work now," interrupted Anakin. "No one would think that the Senator would again use a decoy."

"It is our best chance to flush out the assassin," agreed Pemba. "Sharesca and I will continue to serve the 'Senator' in our guise as handmaidens. Dormé will be quite safe, and the assassin will be found, I can assure you."

"You have a visitor, m'lady," announced Captain Typho.

A golden man entered the room behind one of Captain Typho's underlings.

"C-3PO!" exclaimed Padmé. "What brings you here?"

"M'lady," replied C-3PO. "The Senator Organa requests that he may have the pleasure of Senator Amidala's company at the Grand Alderaanian Gathering in the Royal Pavillion. May I give a reply?"

Padmé did not look at Captain Typho. "Yes," she replied. "Tell Senator Organa that Senator Amidala accepts his kind invitation with pleasure."

"Thank you, m'lady," answered C-3PO with a courtly bow. The guard led him out of the apartment.

"This would be the perfect opportunity," said Anakin. "If you go to Alderaan, it'd be easier to get you somewhere safer from there than it is from Coruscant. Especially if **they** think you are on Coruscant."

"No," said Padmé, "I won't stand for that."

"I'm brave," said Dormé, giving Padmé a long look, remembering that time years ago when they had first left Naboo.

"I will arrange for the security detail to get the senator to Alderaan," said Typho. "But how can such a substitution be made?"

"I suppose it would depend on how much you can trust Senator Organa," said Sharesca. "The royal family would undoubtedly have to be apprised, so as to allow Senator Amidala to remain behind while Dormé continues back to Coruscant in her place."

"They can't know beforehand." Captain Typho paced as he spoke. "Too many knowing details, too easy to get something slipped through."

"And what I think--" began Padmé.

"If it interferes with your safety," said Typho, "it doesn't matter. My orders are from the queen, m'lady."

"Very well," said Padmé resignedly. "Dormé, come with me."


	8. Chapter 6

A/N: I am still neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... As a reminder of the changes I have made to the Antilles-Organa family tree, in this AU, Breha Antilles-Organa is married to Mazic Organa, while Bail Organa is Breha's son. No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Please enjoy this installment (and review--let me know what you think, please). My apologies for the long delay in posting this installment--I took a job with a really steep learning curve, had a bit of a health scare, and a whole lot of other real-life impinging on my writing time.

* * *

Padmé and Dormé, both dressed as handmaidens, hurried with the escort of Pemba, Sharesca, Captain Typho, and several other carefully screened Naboo to the spacecraft.

"So far, so good," said Captain Typho as they reached the ship, seeing Obi-Wan and Anakin already aboard.

"The holovids are still talking about Senator Amidala's up-coming press conference," said Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to speak anyway," said Padmé as she boarded her ship. "They only **assumed **that I meant to give it before leaving for Alderaan."

"And they are still uncertain about the number of handmaidens," said Dormé with a small smile. "I think we've thrown them off."

"Not entirely," said Pemba, "yet, enough so that greater attention is being given to Senator Bel Iblis's conference, and so that we might depart with lesser attention."

"Now that we're all aboard," said Captain Typho as the doors sealed shut, "let's prepare for take-off."

Padmé hurried back to her chambers with Dormé, and took their seats.

"Flight plan filed yet?" asked Captain Typho.

"No," replied Anakin. "I'm doing that now."

"We can't have such delays!" shouted Captain Typho. "They'll have to approve ..."

"It won't take any time at all." Anakin exuded confidence. "I can assure you of that."

In short order, Padmé's ship, accompanied by its three graceful fighters, left the space of Coruscant en route to Alderaan.

"It's beautiful," said Anakin, looking through the viewscreen at Alderaan as the planet's features grew discernable.

"Not much like Coruscant?" replied Obi-Wan.

"Very different," answered Anakin. "It seems ... alive."

"It reminds me of Naboo," put in Captain Typho. "Green and blue, not an overgrown city."

Two fighters approached from the planet, requesting identification. Codes were transmitted, and Padmé's ship, now accompanied by five fighters, continued toward their destination.

From within the ship, Padmé watched in her dressing room mirror as the mask of Senator Amidala settled upon her once more. She wore a formal golden gown with a violet overcoat as Dormé pulled her hair into the same style as she had worn for the Senatorial appearance disproving Amidala's death after the explosion marking the arrival on Coruscant. Flanked by the hooded faux-handmaidens, Senator Amidala now sat down in her stateroom on the ship, transmission open for her formal holovid statement decrying the call for meeting violence with violence.

"My dear friends, fellow-citizens of this great Republic," pleaded Padmé, "we cannot allow ourselves to be forced into war. We must continue every effort to reach out to our separated brothers, those who we once knew as friends and allies, and restore our Republic as it once was. Violence yields only more violence; how many will die if it comes to war? We must not let ourselves be mastered by fear. We must maintain our resolve against war."

xXxXx

Padmé stood up, her gown an ivory color, met at a gold and diamond ring at her throat. It was backless with a flaring skirt--atop the silk a fluttering golden tulle pinned with bejeweled butterflies which flew in a line from throat to waist and from there into a scattering of butterflies about the skirt and its train.

"M'lady." Bail offered her a courtly bow. "You look lovely."

_And men always look so devastatingly handsome in formalwear,_ thought Padmé. _I daresay Sola wouldn't worry about me if she saw me now._ "Thank you," replied Padmé. "I have so been looking forward to this ball ever since C-3PO brought your kind invitation."

"Welcome respite from Coruscant, I'm sure."

"And all the endless 'protection'," replied Padmé, slipping her hand into the crook of Bail's arm as they left the apartment. Behind the couple, Pemba and Dormé--clad in plain navy gowns--followed unobtrusively.

"These are difficult times," replied Bail, "but for tonight--no politics. Even with the guest list." He grimaced at that before giving Padmé a wink. As they walked together, the sounds of the orchestra wafted down the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the major domo nodded as they approached King Mazic and Queen Breha.

"Padmé Amidala Naberrie of Naboo."

Padmé made a curtsy, as Queen Breha presented her with the dance card.

The orchestra had already begun playing, and Bail easily led her into the beginning steps of the dance.

"And just why are we here again?" said Anakin, glowering at the dancing senators across the room.

"Two reasons," replied Obi-Wan. "First, be cheerful--we're here to make sure that no ladies find themselves sitting out a dance unless they so wish. Second, of course--unobtrusive security."

Anakin forced a smile over his gritted teeth, and said, "Is that better?"

"Marginally, my padawan," returned Obi-Wan. "Marginally."

Akhil Palpatine led the azure-clad Ivor Drake through the figure, his guidance bringing them ever closer to Bail and Padmé as the dance reached a cross-point. Making their bows, four hands met and circled, and when the four broke apart, Bail now danced with Ivor as Padmé continued with Akhil.

"I trust you are enjoying your visit to Alderaan," said Akhil.

"Quite," replied Padmé. "In some ways, I am reminded of our own Naboo."

"Have you had an opportunity to view the grass paintings?"

"No, I have not."

The figure separated them, and then they resumed conversational distance as they continued about the floor.

"You must be sure to see the art before you leave Alderaan," said Akhil. "It's quite remarkable."

"I will make a point of it," replied Padmé, the figure drawing them back to intersect with Bail and Ivor once more.

Swirling around, Padmé continued through the piece with Bail as Ivor set off in Akhil's arms once more. As the music drew to a close, they had danced near the wall and a number of grouped upholstered furniture.

"Thank you for the dance," said Bail.

"Thank you," replied Padmé. "I did enjoy that figure so."

Bail said, "If I may see the card for a moment?"

Padmé offered the card to him, and Bail filled in a few lines before returning it to her.

"May I offer you a drink?" said Anakin, holding out a long-stemmed glass to Padmé.

With a bow, Bail was off, dancing now with a young Antilles cousin.

"Enjoying it?" said Anakin.

"Yes, thank you," replied Padmé, taking the glass and a sip of the beverage.

Anakin asked, "So ... you like dancing?"

"Yes, I do," replied Padmé. "Do you enjoy dancing?"

"I've never danced before," confessed Anakin. "I don't think I know how."

As the waltz neared its end, Obi-Wan walked over and asked, "Padmé, may I have this dance?"

"Of course," replied Padmé. "Except for about supper, I don't date ahead."

Anakin glowered as Padmé rose from her seat, leaving the Alderaanian wine behind to join Obi-Wan on the floor.

"I didn't realize the Jedi were such accomplished dancers," said Padmé with a slight smile as Obi-Wan led her through the steps of a waltz.

"Dancing to Alderaanian orchestras?" said Obi-Wan. "Quite easy, really. If one listens, they can hear the Force whispering what step to take and when with such music."

"Someone should let Dee--er, Anakin--in on that," said Padmé. "He seems ... out of place."

"It is something he shall have to manage on his own," replied Obi-Wan. "Many of the lessons require a trust that one knows--or will be told--what to do when the need arises. I trust you are enjoying the ball?"

"Quite," replied Padmé. "It's rather a relief not to have so much security about."

"Oh, we're about still," rejoined Obi-Wan with a wink. "Just proceeding in a different manner."

"Nonetheless, it's quite pleasant for one night, to not feel so ... weighed by the thoughts of -- oh, never mind that," said Padmé. "Bail said that there was no need for politics tonight, and I rather like the thought of that."

"Ah, I do understand," said Obi-Wan. "Then you are enjoying your visit to Alderaan?"

"Very much," replied Padmé as they continued across the floor. "In some ways, it reminds me a little of home."

The room swirled with dancing couples, the music fading from the first orchestra as a second one led them to a new tune. Padmé herself spent her time from one dance partner to the next, pausing only very occasionally for sips of Alderaanian wine in between dances. Bail came once more to claim her hand in a dance, before escorting her to the supper that had been laid out.

The hours continued to pass after Padmé and Bail had eaten and returned to the dance floor. After quite a few more dances with various men, Padmé was resting with another glass of Alderaanian wine when Anakin approached.

"I ... um, may I ..." he stammered.

"Have this dance?" finished Padmé.

Flushing, Anakin nodded.

"Of course," replied Padmé, standing to join him. "I was rather hoping you might ask."

"I ... it's not exactly easy," said Anakin, as he awkwardly took the lead in the figure. "Not like I ever learned this stuff growing up on Tatooine."

"It's all right," said Padmé, trying not to wince as he landed on her toes. "Just let the music guide you through the steps."

"You sound like you've been talking to Obi-Wan," replied Anakin.

"I did dance with him," answered Padmé. "I was rather surprised to see the Jedi here at all, all things considering."

"Like the Jedi oaths?" said Anakin as there was the sound of fabric ripping. "Oh, kriff, not again."

Padmé looked down to the tear in her train and said, "It's all right, Anakin. Just get me to the side over there," she inclined her head. "Dormé will help me get this pinned back in place in no time."

"Third one tonight!" groaned Anakin. "I'm hopeless at this."

"Dee ... Anakin," said Padmé, "it's all right. Don't take it so hard. I'll be back on the floor as soon as Dormé has gotten this taken care of, it won't be long."

Anakin bowed as Padmé moved to the sidelines, whispering something to Dormé. The two women moved off into a dressing room which Anakin had already learned was off-limits to the gentlemen present.

"Completely hopeless," muttered Anakin.

xXxXx

The metal and mother-of-pearl choker glistened in the afternoon sunlight, Padmé's dress mirroring a sunset as it shaded from azure near the choker and metal bands which held the dropped sleeves in place to dusky rose at the hemline. Her hair was caught in a series of bands, a simpler style than any she had worn for more formal appearances, allowing her hair to curl around her face.

"You look lovely this afternoon," said Bail, as one of the servants brought a tray of tea and small sandwiches.

"Thank you." Padmé took her cup of tea.

"I know you are reluctant about remaining behind on Alderaan," said Bail. "But I can assure you that I will continue to support you on the continued attempts to negotiate a peace treaty with the separatists."

"Actually, I'm more worried about Dormé," admitted Padmé.

"So far as I know, Chancellor Palpatine and I will be the only ones of the Senate to know that this switch has taken place." Bail added a spoonful of sugar to his tea. "I won't do anything that would allow this information to pass beyond me. Even my staff will not have this information supplied to them."

"Do you think that they would tell?" Padmé picked up her cup of tea.

"Not intentionally," replied Bail. "However, one can be certain that no inadvertent slips will be made if the information isn't known in the first place. But that is hardly the sort of thing that I want discuss during my last hours here with you."

"What would you like to discuss, then?" asked Padmé.

"What did you think of our tour of the grass paintings?" asked Bail.

"I loved it," replied Padmé. "I wish ..."

"What?" prompted Bail.

"There's someone on Naboo--well, really, all the Gungans, I think might well enjoy seeing such art. I wish they could see it," said Padmé. "Most of them are ... well, they are reluctant to leave Naboo at all. So far as I know, Naiia is the only one who has ever traveled from our home planet."

"It is unfortunate that the art does not travel well then," replied Bail.

"It is," replied Padmé. "Unless, perhaps, one of the artists might be persuaded to pay a visit there? I am sure that Queen Jamillia would be quite interested in the art as well."

"That would certainly be something to mention to the University," said Bail. "A cultural exchange would be a bright spot in these days. And you've done it again--all official business."

"It's not that," said Padmé. "It's just ... being isolated is so hard to contemplate."

"I'll leave you C-3PO," replied Bail. "He can be ... well, verbose, at times. But he has a certain charm."

"Thank you." Padmé eyed Bail over the rim of her teacup. _A charm like his master's?_


	9. Chapter 7

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Please enjoy this installment. And please review and let me know what you think about the direction I'm heading.

* * *

Dormé stood, staring at her reflection, now gowned in one of Padmé's formal gowns. Pulling on hooded traveling robes of navy, Pemba and Sharesca moved to flank her on both sides. She reached up, scratching through a gap in the elaborate metal framework now encasing her hair and the beaded ferronniere gracing her forehead.

"How does it feel?" said Padmé.

"I don't know how you do it," replied Dormé. "This feels so ... stiff."

"A certain formality is expected of senators," said Padmé with a sigh. "Not much less than what is expected of queens. Clothes like that help ... make you feel more stiff and formal."

"As well as making it easier for someone to impersonate you," added Dormé. "I'm sure that's why we developed that no-region accent for politics, too."

"Well, there's always that," replied Padmé with a laugh. She quickly sobered, however. "Are you sure she'll be all right?"

"Don't worry," replied Pemba. "We'll remain on the job as the Senator's handmaidens. And your secret is closely guarded. We should be more worried that someone might pierce through this deception and find you once more. The security is far less here."

"I'm not worried about that," said Padmé. "So many people have come to harm on my account, and I can hardly bear thinking that another would be laid at my feet ..."

"You cannot be blamed," said Pemba. "Assassins are reprehensible creatures, and there is nothing more that needs to be said of that subject."

"I will be fine," reassured Dormé. "Senator Organa has promised to see to it that there are no outward signs of the change that we've made."

"That's very kind of Bail," said Padmé, standing to embrace her handmaiden. "Do be careful, Dormé."

"I will," she replied. "I promise."

"We'll see to it that the plot is unraveled with all possible speed," said Pemba. "So that you may return safely to Coruscant, M'lady."

"I will be most grateful for your speed in that matter," replied Padmé, retreating into the bedroom as she heard the sound of another's entry.

Captain Typho entered the apartment, and said, "The ship is ready, Senator."

"Thank you, Captain," replied Dormé.

Without a backward glance, Dormé followed Captain Typho to the ship, trailed by the two 'handmaidens'.

The journey from Alderaan to Coruscant was a short one, as the trio of starfighters led the way for the chrome-plated starship, just like they had on that tragic day when Cordé and Versé had been slain. The date of this return from Alderaan had been a closely guarded secret, though if anyone looked up to the Coruscanti skies, he would not have failed to recognize the ships that crossed his sight. Yet, having kept the secret guarded, any recognition would come too late for an assassin's plan to be brought against them.

The ships moved into the lesser-traveled traffic lanes, and finally came to rest on a landing dock which floated near a cluster of buildings.

Around the dock, Republic guards stood watch as the ramp lowered from the larger ship. Senator Amidala's own sentries emerged first, nodding their acknowledgment of the Republic's guard. Captain Typho then stepped out, leading the woman dressed in the elaborate gown and headdress that marked her as the senator. She was trailed by the two robed handmaidens, as the Republic guard faced outward, warily checking for assassins.

Another of the Naboo security arrived, showing his credentials, which allowed Captain Typho, Senator Amidala, and the two handmaidens allowed to board the shuttle.

"We made it." Dormé settled into her seat.

"I wouldn't say that until you're safely in the apartment," said Captain Typho grimly.

"I sense no particular danger," said Pemba.

"If the Force was infallible," snapped Captain Typho, "I would never have lost any of my security forces. And how many others died in those last assassinations?"

"The Jedi cannot be in all places at once," said Sharesca.

"I know." There was no disguise of the weariness in Captain Typho's voice. "I have already heard the complaints that Senator Amidala has received special protection by the Jedi, and that perhaps ..."

"They should just let Senator Amidala die, and let the vote to create the army continue," concluded Dormé. "I know, and I've thought about little else since we left Alderaan."

xXxXx

"Miss Padmé will be so happy to have company," said the golden man as he opened the door to Obi-Wan and Anakin. "She is out on the back terrace. I will let her know that you have arrived."

"Thank you," replied Obi-Wan.

"Isn't that Senator Organa's droid?" said Anakin as he watched C-3PO leave.

"I believe so," replied Obi-Wan. "Why does that surprise you, Anakin?"

"It's just ... odd, I thought."

"Well, she is staying in an apartment belonging to the royal family here," said Obi-Wan. "It only makes sense that they'd have some staff with the apartment."

Their conversation was cut short as C-3PO came back into the room. "Miss Padmé wishes for you to join her on the terrace for tea. Please, follow me."

The terrace was filled with greenery as hanging plants cascaded from earthenware pots. Beyond, a vista of the tarn and the surrounding mountain could be seen. Woven white seats were scattered about the broad terrace. Upon one such seat sat a blue-clad blossom which was Padmé herself.

"Master Kenobi, it is good to see you again." She smiled as she greeted them, beckoning the two Jedi to join her on the chairs of the terrace. "And Anakin."

"Beautiful place," said Anakin, taking in the appearance of everything around him, though his eyes had settled directly on Padmé when he spoke.

"Yes, welcome to my cage," she replied with a grimace.

"You don't sound at all happy about staying here," noted Obi-Wan.

"How could I be?" said Padmé. "I'm worried about Dormé and the danger she's stepped into on my behalf. And that the cause of peace will be damaged by events while I ... sit here in comfort, as though everything were just fine, when we all know it isn't."

"Ah, Senator, you cannot hold the burden of the fate of the entire galaxy on your shoulders," said Obi-Wan. "And Dormé is quite well-protected with two Jedi as her 'handmaidens' along with your own Captain Typho, plus the security."

"I still worry. It is so hard to just ... sit back and be able to do nothing but watch whatever snippets are on the holovids." She nearly hurled herself against the back of her chair, frustration writ across her face. "I'm not allowed to make contact."

C-3PO emerged on the terrace again, bringing the tea tray out to the low table between the Jedi and Padmé.

"Thank you, Threepio, that will be all," said Padmé once the two Jedi had been served.

As C-3PO moved away, Anakin said, "We could maybe ..."

"No," interjected Obi-Wan. "The communications going back to Alderaan could be intercepted. Just one mistake would be enough to reveal what the truth of the matter is, increasing the dangers both here and on Coruscant. I'm very sorry, Senator, that it isn't possible to provide much more."

"I know," replied Padmé. "Bail has promised that he will try to provide reassurance with his missives to his parents here."

Anakin felt anger rise sharply before he was able to quickly quash it down. _Bail! Why is it that he's able to provide what I cannot?_

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a quizzically raised eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I guess you have to be happy with that much, then," said Anakin.

"Yes," replied Padmé, "as difficult as it is. I just am not used to feeling so ... so utterly helpless. Not since I was queen and the Senate wouldn't take immediate action. But even then, I had the ability to **do something** about the situation."

"And what action would you take now?" asked Obi-Wan gently.

Padmé gave a loud and heavy sigh, and said, "There's nothing, really. All I could do was attempt to keep negotiations open with the separatists, but I can't do that on my own."

"It's hard to adjust to watching instead of being watched," said Obi-Wan. "But you must trust the Council--it is for the good of the galaxy that you are safe here."

"I do trust the Council," said Padmé. "But I shall not pretend to be happy about the situation."

"I don't believe any of us are truly happy about it, Senator," replied Obi-Wan.

xXxXx

Senators, aides, droids, lobbyists filled the halls of power in clustered knots, making last ditch efforts to persuade others in joining the cause of creating the army or for the prevention of it.

Dormé had dressed in the fine gold brocade gown that had an elaborate overcoat of blue. Her hair was done up in a style which she had dressed Padmé's in over a hundred times over during the course of her service through Padmé's time as Queen and later as Senator. Trailing her, Pemba and Sharesca were silent in their hooded blue cloaks.

"Senator Amidala!" called Horox Ryyder, as the tall Anx hurried to reach her side.

Dormé paused, turning in the direction of the call, and smiled at Horox, moving to meet him partway.

Bending down nearer Dormé, Horox began, "Senator Amidala ..." He paused, nose twitching. "There is something wrong here ..."

"What is it?" asked Dormé, schooling herself into the cultured accent of Naboo politicians. _I hope he doesn't see through this facade!_

"There is something terribly wrong here," began Horox. "You're ..."

Within the Senate chamber itself, several of the Senators had already taken their seats. Sidebar conversations continued from box to box, echoing against the walls of the large chamber.

Mas Amedda strode into position, surveying the cacophonous scene with obvious distaste. He rang the bell, signaling to those senators still outside the chamber that the time had come for the renewal of their session.

"I know," replied Dormé. "I'm sorry, I must hurry in for the roll call."

"Of course, Senator Amidala," replied Horox, as he moved off to do likewise. "Perhaps we can discuss matters later. How about this evening at dinner?"

Dormé made a show of consulting a datapad, and said, "Yes, that is possible, Senator Ryyder. I shall keep the time open for you."

As Dormé took the Senator's seat in the box, she murmured, "I was afraid for a moment that he had pierced the ruse."

"He had," acknowledged Pemba, "but he will not remember it differently and is quite certain that you are the Senator."

Trying to hide her shock, Dormé said, "What do you mean?"

Before Pemba could answer, however, an empty Senatorial box came careening away from the wall toward them.

"M'lady!" exclaimed Sharesca, taking Dormé by the arms and pulling her from the box out into the hallway and around the corner. She shielded the faux-Senator with her own body as Pemba came racing out of the box, closing the door behind her to form a weak barrier.

"What!?" protested Dormé, her voice muffled by her nearly prone position, swallowed up in yards of fabric.

A loud thunderclap sounded from within the chamber. The clap turned into a low rumble, and then a ground-shaking crash. The sound of splintering transparisteel striking the bottom of the Senate floor followed. Then there was silence.

"What happened?" said Dormé, pushing herself up from the floor.

"It was a bomb," said Pemba. "Senator Ryyder was right, he must have sensed it as well."

"A bomb? In the Senate Chambers?" said Dormé incredulously. "Who would dare be so bold?!"

Staggering into the hallway, bleeding, Ronet Coorr said, "Senator Amidala, who else can it be? The Separatists! This is why we need an army, and stalling the inevitable isn't helping."

"Senator Coorr!" exclaimed Dormé. She turned to her faux handmaidens. "We need someone ..."

"Of course," said Sharesca, moving quickly to Senator Coorr's side. "We don't need the arguments now, Senator. Please, sit here, we'll get some medical attention to you ..."

xXxXx

On Alderaan, Padmé stood transfixed, staring at the holovid screen.

Maleena Durame sat stiffly in front of the cameras, her mouth moving to give the news. The shock, however, seemed to have drained all humanity from her voice.

"The Senate session has been adjourned indefinitely," stated Maleena. "A box formerly belonging to the senator of the Sluis Sector broke free from its moorings today. It appeared on a course for the box of Senator Amidala, whose handmaidens rushed her into the hall outside moments before the impact."

"Dormé!" cried Padmé, her hand over her mouth in horror.

"A ring of thirty-two boxes were destroyed," continued Maleena woodenly. "The confirmed dead at this time include twelve senators and thirty senatorial aides. More on this breaking news as additional information becomes available."

"Why must I be here, unable to do **anything**_?_" cried Padmé. _I knew I shouldn't have agreed to that plan--they almost killed Dormé._


	10. Chapter 8

_A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Please enjoy this installment._

"Good morning, Mister Anakin, sir," said C-3PO, opening the door to the padawan. "Is your Master Kenobi coming here, also?"

"No, not now," said Anakin. "I would like to have a moment to let Padmé--er, Senator Amidala ... know something before we leave Alderaan."

"Of course, sir," replied C-3PO. "I will announce you."

Anakin stood awkwardly in the entry after C-3PO closed the intervening door.

"Thank you," he said to the closed door.

Several minutes passed, and C-3PO opened the door to announce, "Miss Padmé will see you now in the garden room."

"The garden room?" repeated Anakin.

"This way, sir," replied C-3PO.

The garden room proved to be quite aptly named; transparisteel walls allowed morning sunlight to stream into the room which had been filled with latticeworks holding a variety of climbing roses. Glancing about, Anakin saw a wrought iron table with matching chairs. Behind that, climbing roses had been trained to form the ropes which held a polished wooden seat and the woman he wanted to see. Padmé sat, wearing a high-necked dress of sea-green, her hair caught back by a broad headband of the same color.

"Dee--oh, I'm sorry, Anakin." Padmé came down from the swing. "I suppose, having met first when you were ..."

"It's ok," said Anakin. "I kind of like it. I'm glad you'd see me."

"Alderaan is a beautiful place," she said, gesturing to the broad expanse of water and sunlight outside the windows. "But sometimes, it feels so like a cage. Anakin, I heard about what happened in the Senate. There must be some way to find who's responsible and stop them!"

"That's partly what I wanted to talk to you about, Padmé," said Anakin, flushing. "Um, Senator Amidala."

"It's probably better that you call me Padmé," she replied. "Well on Coruscant, at least. If someone other than Threepio were to overhear you, when the whole galaxy believes that I'm back at work in the Senate..."

"I think you're right, though," said Anakin. "That it is Count Austerus behind these attempts to kill you. All of them."

"The Jedi Council did not agree." The remembered meeting in Palpatine's office brought a frown of disappointment to her face.

"I sense it," stated Anakin, wanting to wipe that frown from her face. "I am certain of it, as certain as I am that you're even more beautiful than the first time I saw you ..."

"Anakin!" said Padmé.

"It's true," protested Anakin. "From the first time I saw you, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you."

"Stop, Anakin!" Padmé shook her head. "That's a path we cannot tread. You have your oath to the Jedi order, I have my obligations--don't torture yourself with such thoughts."

"I can't help it," protested Anakin.

"No." Padmé held her hands in front of her. "Anakin, let's not talk of that. You came here to talk about the threats that I've been under. Do you think that box of the Senate was aiming for ... well, where I was supposed to be? Where Dormé was, since she was holding my place?"

Anakin looked as though he had been slapped at these words, and quietly said, "Yes, I do. And I promise you, we will find the people responsible so you don't have to keep hiding here on Alderaan. I'm sorry I bothered you."

With that, he stood up and started for the door.

"Sir," began C-3PO.

"I can find my own way out," replied Anakin, not breaking stride.

A moment later, the slam of the door reverberated through the cottage.

xXxXx

"Anakin!" admonished Obi-Wan, looking up as his padawan entered the quarters they had been sharing during their time on Alderaan. "Must we start at the beginning with your meditations again? You look more unsettled than you did when you left."

"I'm sorry, Master," replied Anakin. "It's just ... I can't help thinking about ... that Senate box, they were aiming for where they thought Padmé ..."

"Senator Amidala, Anakin," corrected Obi-Wan. "You cannot allow your personal feelings for one person to override concern for the larger picture."

"It's all the same," protested Anakin.

"Senator Amidala is a politician, and those who are attempting to kill her are doing so out of political motive, not personal grievance," said Obi-Wan. "Your thoughts regarding the Senator betray you, as well."

"What do you mean?" demanded Anakin.

"You swore an oath to the Jedi Order. Be mindful of that oath. Perhaps it will do you some good to not be so near her." Obi-Wan took two steps and turned to look out the window again. "I have just received a message from the Council. We are to return to Coruscant."

"Did they find something out?" asked Anakin.

"If they did, it is not something that can be transmitted where someone might intercept," replied Obi-Wan. "We are to return to Coruscant, and we will be told what the Council wishes us to do next at that time."

"Are they going to **consider** the fact that it could be Count Austerus who is pulling the strings on these attempts to kill Pad ... Senator Amidala?" asked Anakin.

"I do not know," said Obi-Wan. "I do not sense that is the case. Now, get your things together, and we will begin with the meditations again during our short jump to Coruscant."

"Yes, Master," replied Anakin. _Always with the meditations! It's like trying to run a sprint with chains around my ankles. And weights._

Nonetheless, time had passed quickly in this journey. Expecting the ship to be reaching the point of leaving hyperspace, Obi-Wan frowned, and looked at Anakin.

"You reset the coordinates!" exclaimed Obi-Wan.

"Just to lengthen our time in hyperspace a bit. We'll come out closer," said Anakin. _Maybe, I'll have an opportunity to __talk to the Chancellor. There wasn't any time while he was on Alderaan_._ Maybe he knows how to make the Council see._

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh and sat down at the console, trying to determine where the new coordinates would put them.

"We can't leave hyperspace so close to Coruscant's approach lanes," began Obi-Wan. "There's too much congestion for a safe flight. I've explained this to you how many times!"

"But ..." protested Anakin.

"Anakin," said Obi-Wan, his eyes fixing his padawan like a butterfly on a pin.

"Yes, Master," said Anakin, looking down, unable to continue gamely on under that dread gaze which he had become accustomed to from Obi-Wan.

"Never do this again," said Obi-Wan. More gently, he continued, "I know that you're anxious to get there--we've been away too long as it is. But remember what I have told you--and never take a chance like that again."

"Yes, Master," replied Anakin, settling into his chair. _It's only a few hours more, but ... if only I can talk with the Chancellor, I'm sure he'll see that it has to be what Padmé thinks. And maybe we can find a way to stop the people trying to kill her so she can be back on Coruscant again._

"You're looking tired, too, Anakin," observed Obi-Wan.

"I haven't been sleeping that well lately," confessed Anakin.

"Because of those dreams you've been having?" asked Obi-Wan. "About your mother?"

"How ..."

"You talk in your sleep," replied Obi-Wan.

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now," said Anakin. "And it's more than that--these dreams, or are they visions?"

"Or are they merely dreams?" said Obi-Wan. "Anakin, not every dream is a premonition or mystical connection. Sometimes a dream is just a dream, young Padawan."

Anakin shook his head in negation.

"Dreams pass in time," said Obi-Wan. "Do not dwell on them."

xXxXx

Together, Master and Padawan walked the corridors of the Jedi Temple. Though they walked together, their thoughts could not have been further apart, as Obi-Wan considered the message he had been sent while Anakin dwelled on thoughts of Padmé.

All too soon for Anakin, he found himself standing quietly in the Jedi Council chamber, encircled by the Masters of the Order. He stood uneasily just behind and to one side of his master, Obi-Wan. As he looked from face to face, Anakin could not forget how many of those on this council had opposed allowing him to train as a Jedi, and even now he could sense their grave reservations about his continued training.

_But I am a Jedi, _thought Anakin, his head lowering as he cleared his thoughts to listen to the ponderous council.

"This latest assassination seems to have been from the same source as the others," said Mace, "and so we ask you to continue in this assignment."

"Track down the source, you must, Obi-Wan," said Yoda.

"There has been, as you heard, the other assassination attempt in the Senate Chamber itself," said Mace. "They grow bolder, and those sending the assassins must be found before worse yet happens."

"And Senator Amidala?" asked Obi-Wan.

"She remains too close," said Mace. "We need her to travel away from Alderaan, away from the center of the assassins' activity. Her stay on Alderaan was never meant to be more than a temporary measure, and departure from there is more easily arranged."

"Handle that, your Padawan will," stated Yoda.

"Now as to your assignment, Obi-wan. This device," Mace held up the mangled material, "remained of the bomb that had been rigged in the Senate box. Follow the trail from this as it leads you."

Obi-Wan nodded acknowledgment of his task. Behind him, Anakin could feel his heart soar at the thought that not only had he been given a solo assignment, but that it was to take care of Padmé.

"Anakin, you are to travel with Senator Amidala under assumed names to the resort on B'reuse. You will be provided a ship to leave from Alderaan," said Mace. "Your passage there has already been arranged."

"Senator Amidala will be reluctant to go so far from the capital," said Anakin. "She wasn't happy about staying on Alderaan as it is."

"Until caught this killer is," said Yoda, "our judgment respect she must."

"If necessary," added Mace with finality in his tone, "ask the Chancellor if he will provide a message ordering her to go."

Anakin barely had time to react to this before he noticed that Obi-Wan was already leaving the chamber of the High Council, and he hastened to follow.

As they traversed the hall, Anakin said, "I was only trying to explain Padmé's passion for ..."

"You made Senator Amidala's concerns clear," interrupted Obi-Wan. "The Jedi Council understands."

"Yes, Master," replied Anakin.

Sensing the rebelliousness in his padawan's tone, Obi-Wan turned, and said, "You must trust in them, Anakin."

"Yes, Master," replied Anakin automatically. _All I have to do is get Padmé to follow the orders, and I will be with her, guarding her. Just the two of us._

xXxXx

_I have never seen Anakin so quick to embrace a new duty,_ thought Obi-Wan as he traversed the halls of the Jedi Temple. _That alone concerns me. I told him to trust in the Council, but even now I am having trouble myself, trusting in the wisdom of the Council in sending him away alone with Senator Amidala. _Those thoughts, however, were interrupted as he found an open cubicle with an SP-4 droid.

Sitting at the console, Obi-Wan was immediately greeted by the metallic voice of the droid. "Place the subject for analysis on the sensor tray, please."

Obi-Wan put the twisted piece of metal into the tray even as the last syllable faded away.

"The subject has been severely damaged," said the droid.

"It was part of a bomb," said Obi-Wan. "I need the composition, and its origins."

Images began scrolling across the screen as Obi-Wan watched, speculative analysis of the pre-explosion appearance of the device.

"Composition is phobium and crystal," announced the SP-4. "Likely origins Gargon."

"And assembly?"

"It does not match known assembly plants specifications," replied the droid.

"Speculate," instructed Obi-Wan, wishing that this droid had been given a sufficient enough capability to reason to see that such a step was the next logical progression.

"Aduba-3 is home to many factories which may not be using standard methods of production," replied the droid.

"Well, that's a starting point," said Obi-Wan, taking the twisted lump from the analysis tray. He stood up, leaving the cubicle. "Not an answer, but a starting point."

Obi-Wan continued his contemplations as his steps took him to the Archives. _If someone meant to frame the separatists ... Certainly, using materials from worlds they now hold would point in that direction. But that hardly makes sense. Senator Amidala is right in her belief that the creation of an army might push the separatists into thinking they must go to war, and war would follow. A great, terrible war that would cost the lives of billions ... What would the separatists gain from that? It makes no sense._

Without conscious thought, Obi-Wan's steps had brought him to the bust of one Count Rex Austerus, former Jedi Knight.

"Whatever led you to such a course of action?" asked Obi-Wan, as though the inert material might answer him. _He reminds me of Qui-Gon._ The thought was immediately followed by a pang, as Obi-Wan once again considered his loss and the resulting burden thrust upon him.

"He has a powerful face, doesn't he?" said the woman behind him. "He was one of the most brilliant Jedi I ever had the privilege of knowing."

Obi-Wan turned to face the inimitable Jocasta Nu, and said, "I never understood why he left. Whatever problems he might have seen, couldn't they have been better faced within the Jedi family?"

"One of the Lost Twenty," said Jocasta, with a profound sigh. "And Count Austerus our most recent. No one likes to talk about it, Obi-Wan. His departure was a great loss to the Order."

"What happened?" asked Obi-Wan.

"One might say he was a bit ... out of step with the decisions of the Council," replied Jocasta. "Much as your old Master, Qui-Gon. Like Master, like padawan."

"Really?" prompted Obi-Wan, trying to remain non-committal while hoping for more information.

"Oh yes, they were alike in many ways," replied Jocasta. "Very individual thinkers. Idealists. He was always striving to become a more powerful Jedi. He wanted to be the best ... His knowledge of the Force was ... unique. And in the end, I think he lost faith in the Republic."

Obi-Wan and Jocasta shared a glance and then both gazed down at his bust once more.

Without looking at Obi-Wan, she continued, "He felt that the Jedi betrayed themselves by serving the politicians instead of the Republic."

Obi-Wan blinked as he absorbed these words.

"He disappeared for about nine or ten years, and now ... here he is, the head of the separatist movement."

"Interesting," replied Obi-Wan, "yet, I don't think I understand still."

"None of us does." Jocasta gave Austerus' stony cheek a near-affectionate caress. "Did you come here simply for a history lesson?"

"No," replied Obi-Wan. "I'm ... troubled by the information that I'm gathering. Everything seems to be pointing at the separatists, but such a conclusion makes little sense to me."

"What points to the separatists?" asked Jocasta.

"The bomb that was in the Senate," said Obi-Wan. "Using a box belonging to a senator whose sector has seceded and material coming from a world that has also seceded. Further information points to a plant at Aduba-3 being the point of manufacture."

"You won't find answers if you close your mind to what you find," said Jocasta. "Follow your trail, and you may find the truth."

"Or that I have been deliberately misled, and no closer than I started."

"And do you get closer by standing here, not starting the task you have been given?"

Obi-Wan gave her a rueful smile.

"I'm sure that you'll come to a decision on how to handle this best while you are traveling."

"Yes." Obi-Wan stared into the stone eyes of Count Austerus. "Yes, I'm sure I will. Thank you."


	11. Chapter 9

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Please enjoy this installment.

* * *

His starfighter now ready, Obi-Wan walked to the landing platform with Mace Windu.

"Investigations point to Aduba-3," said Obi-Wan, mentally tracing the path from the navigational records. "Seems unlikely, but ... it's a place to start."

"That is a dangerous place to travel in these days," replied Mace. "No Jedi is likely to be welcome there."

"I've had ... less than warm welcomes before," said Obi-Wan. "I'm sure that I will manage."

"Even so, I sense an uncertainty." Mace paused as a slow-opening door widened until he could continue down the hallway. "If not how you will manage on Aduba-3?"

"Aduba-3 is part of the separatists' territory now," said Obi-Wan. "If one wanted to implicate the separatists, they have done an admirable job of setting the trail."

"It is possible that the trail leads this way because it is true," observed Mace.

"Possible," said Obi-Wan. "Yet, the benefit to the separatists seems ... hard to discern."

"Do not try to force yourself to find answers," said Mace. "Allow the Force to lead you, and you will find the truth."

"I hope so," said Obi-Wan. "I hope that it's as simple as it presently appears."

"Be wary," urged Mace. "Not only is your destination a perilous one in and of itself, but the disturbance in the Force is growing stronger. That is why you find uncertainty buffeting you."

Obi-Wan nodded, then admitted, "At present, I am more concerned about my Padawan. I do not feel he is ready to be on his own."

"He has exceptional skills," said Mace, his tone patient as he reiterated the Council's position. "The Council is confident in its decision, Obi-Wan. True, there are questions not answered, but his talents cannot be dismissed. We are not disappointed with the progress he has made under your tutelage."

Obi-Wan nodded, trying to decide how to proceed, misgivings drawn plainly upon his face.

"If the prophecy is true, Anakin will be the one to bring balance to the Force," concluded Mace.

"But he still has much to learn. His skills have made him ... well ..." Obi-Wan paused, struggling for a word, and settled upon, "arrogant. He was, perhaps, too old when he started."

"There is something else," observed Mace.

"Master Windu, I'm afraid that Anakin won't be able to protect the Senator properly," confided Obi-Wan.

"Why not?"

"He has an ... emotional attachment to her," said Obi-Wan. "It's been there since he first met her on Tatooine. Now, though, he just seems confused, and ... distracted."

"We've covered this before." They had rounded the last corner, Obi-Wan's ship now in view, R2-D2 was being lifted into position. "Your concerns were properly weighed, and did not change the Council's decision. You must have faith, Obi-Wan. Faith that Anakin will take the right path."

_It's a test of character,_ thought Obi-Wan. _If Anakin is to be the great leader--the fulfillment of prophecy--then he must __past these tests of character. But in seclusion with a woman he loves too deeply ... will he be able to pass the test? And what of the galaxy if he fails?_

Obi-Wan nodded, and then said, "Has Master Yoda gained any insight as to whether or not the war will come about?"

"Probing the dark side is dangerous," replied Mace, shaking his head in negation. "He will undoubtedly remain in seclusion for many days once he begins, but he is still preparing."

Obi-Wan nodded, making his last checks of the exterior of the ship before climbing into the cockpit.

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan," said Mace.

Obi-Wan made his acknowledgment, and settled into position. "Artoo, set the course to the hyperspace ring," he instructed.

With that, he lifted away from the landing pad, heading for a planet where he hoped to find answers no matter how unwelcome he might be.

xXxXx

As uneasy as he had felt in the chamber of the Jedi Council, Anakin felt far more at ease as he made his way down the corridor which led to the office of the Supreme Chancellor. He respected the power and authority of the office, just as he respected that of the Jedi Council, but despite the great power of the Chancellor, the young Padawan felt here he was speaking to a friend.

The office was truly imposing; a grand room which silently spoke of the power of the one who currently occupied its confines. Arcane objets d'art filled the nooks of the room, the dark and sober theme dominated by a desk and chair from which the Supreme Chancellor planned the policies to guide the galaxy. It was designed to impress the visitor, yet somehow Anakin felt relaxed as he looked into the room.

"Anakin, what a welcome surprise," said Akhil, ushering him into the office. "How have you been?"

"I've been given a solo assignment," said Anakin proudly.

"And so, they have finally given you an assignment, my young Padawan," said Akhil avuncularly. "Your patience has paid off."

"I'm just not sure how well it's going to work. The Council wants me to escort Padmé away from the more populated area, but I don't think she's willing to go ..." Anakin paused, as the memory of his last conversation with Padmé rushed through his mind.

"If you wish, I will speak with her," replied Akhil. "Even though she is on Alderaan now, I have means of getting messages securely to her. Senator Amidala will not refuse an executive order."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," said Anakin. "I don't think my patience would've gotten me through, if not for your guidance and assurance that my Jedi Masters were watching and preparing to give me an important task soon."

Akhil nodded, smiling warmly at Anakin. "It's not guidance you need. In time, you will learn to trust your feelings. Then you will be invincible. I have said it many times before, you know. You are the most gifted Jedi I have ever met."

_How can that be so? He must have known so many, and all of those so many much older than me--Master Yoda, surely ..._ "Thank you, Your Excellency," said Anakin.

"I see you becoming the greatest of all the Jedi, Anakin," continued Akhil. "More powerful than even Master Yoda."

_He is so strong, so wise--there's a depth beyond the limits the Jedi impose on themselves. Obi-Wan wouldn't understand. He's always pulling me too tight on a short leash. _Anakin found himself unable to speak in response to the continued praise from Akhil Palpatine, his toe scuffing against the floor as he looked out the window.

Akhil turned to watch the incessant flow of traffic as Anakin shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You are bothered by something more?"

"There are these dreams," said Anakin. "I don't know why I keep dreaming about my mother now."

"Your love for her was, and remains, deep," replied Akhil. "It is not something to be ashamed of."

"But are they dreams or visions? I keep seeing her in terrible trouble and great pain. Are these images of things to come or of things that have already happened?" Anakin exhaled loudly then sighed. "Obi-Wan believes they are just dreams."

"And you do not," stated Akhil.

"No," said Anakin. "Well, I'm just not sure ..."

"You have great potential, Anakin." Akhil smiled, putting an arm about the shoulders of the young man. "You will one day outshine your Master. I cannot answer your question, Anakin, about these things you dream of. All I can tell you is to search your feelings. Trust **yourself**, and the answers will come to you. As you dream, search your feelings, and your path will become clear."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," replied Anakin, moving to stand beside Akhil, watching the traffic. For the first time in many weeks, he felt the burden shift. _I knew it would help if I could speak with him about my dreams. Just like I knew there wasn't a point in mentioning them to Obi-Wan any more._

xXxXx

C-3PO had done an admirable job of lacing Padmé into the black and gray gown she now wore, while desperately attempting to chase the irritated young Senator as she moved about the cottage gathering her things and packing. Padmé stopped, with a heavy sigh, looking at Anakin and C-3PO.

"I don't like this idea of hiding." The tenth time in twenty minutes that she had reminded the pair.

"Don't worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take long before Master Obi-Wan finds out who's behind the assassinations," Anakin said, trying to reassure her. "We should've done that from the beginning--taken the offensive, not just react to the situation ..."

"And while your Master investigates, I have to hide away." Padmé slammed one small case shut to emphasize her dissatisfaction with the situation.

"That would be prudent, yes," said Anakin. _Just us. Please be happy about__** that**__._

"I just don't think I can bear being so far from things when the Military Creation Act is finally decided," said Padmé. "Not after how hard I've worked on this issue!"

"Chancellor Palpatine ..."

"I know," interrupted Padmé. "And it is only out of respect for him that I am agreeing to this at all."

"Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us," quoted Anakin, repeating a lesson often taught to him.

"Pride!" Padmé flared with anger. "Dee, you're young--you don't have a firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve your opinions for another time."

"Sorry, M'lady." Anakin stiffened then gave her an uneasy smile. "I was only trying to ..."

"Dee! No!"

"Please, don't call me that," said Anakin.

"What?"

"Dee. Don't call me Dee," he said. "My name is Anakin. Dee was the little boy on Tatooine."

"And you have grown up," said Padmé, pausing to look at him.

Anakin flushed as she smiled at him. Padmé, however, had quickly gone back to her packing.

"Master Obi-Wan manages not to see it. He criticizes my every move, as if I was still a child," complained Anakin. "He didn't listen to me when I insisted that we go in search of the source of the assassinations ..."

"Mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like," Padmé stated. "It's the only way we grow."

Anakin took an ornament from the shelf, manipulating it with the Force as he spoke. "Don't get me wrong--Obi-Wan is a great mentor, as wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. I am truly thankful to be his Padawan. Only ..." He paused, twisting the knick-knack in the air. "Only, even though I'm only a Padawan, in some ways--in a lot of ways, really--I'm ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it, too. But he feels I'm too unpredictable. Other Jedi my age have gone through the trials and made it. I know I started my training late, but he won't let me move on!"

Padmé paused, looking curiously at Anakin. "That must be frustrating," she observed.

"It's worse! He's overly critical! He never listens! He just doesn't understand! It's not fair!"

Padmé turned quickly back to her packing, but not so quickly that the fit of giggles were hidden.

Anakin stopped, his mouth agape, as though she had slapped him.

"I'm sorry," she said through her giggles. "You sounded exactly like that boy I once knew, when he didn't get his way."

"I'm not whining!" complained Anakin. "I'm not."

"I didn't say it to hurt you," said Padmé.

"I know," said Anakin, feeling deflated.

"Anakin," said Padmé, pausing to take pity on him.

Anakin stared at her, trying to drown in the depths of her brown eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, please," Padmé turned away, this time color stealing upwards from her collar to **her** face.

"Why not?"

"Because I can see what you're thinking," said Padmé, resuming her work.

"Oh, so you have Jedi powers, too?" he said, trying to laugh.

Padmé looked at Anakin and beyond to the inscrutable C-3PO, and said, "Because it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Sorry, M'lady," said Anakin as formally as he could manage stepping back.


	12. Chapter 10

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... If you don't recognize the character, they are mine, except for Zaivo-Vyas, my chosen spelling for Sifo-Dyas. Urak'ai is a game of my invention, first introduced in passing in _The Puppet Master._ It might be considered something of a science-fiction cross between the games of polo, hockey, and lacrosse. No profit is being made, no infringement intended. Any resemblance between Eelo Biree'pek and JarJar Binks is intentional.

Warnings specific to this chapter: bloody violence and death. Please enjoy this installment.

* * *

Air taxi after air taxi brought large numbers of people into the grounds surrounding Corusca Stadium, home of the Coruscant Comets. The highly anticipated game against the Nar Bo Sholla Varockees had arrived, as vendors outside the stadium loudly hawked shirts and programs. A few seedier sorts offered tickets or slyly advertised that they would purchase tickets. Another air taxi arrived, depositing one man who was unmistakably a Jedi, his robes gleaming white, accompanied by Senator Hanoor Gaever'gul of Nar Bo Sholla and the senator's entourage.

Inside the stadium, seats were filling quickly, as the vendors there marched up and down the aisles, calling out the foods and drinks they carried in their carts and tanks. Eelo Biree'pek made his way into the announcer's box making final checks of the equipment for the holovid feeds. The holovid feed briefly focused on the otherwise unremarkable Dunist Laval, winner of two free tickets to the game from his employer, now taking his seat with his wife Reima.

Music announced the beginning of the festivities, and then to hearty shouts from one end of the stadium, seven men dressed in green and white on silver craft emerged onto the field, taking up their positions. A loud uproar followed an instrumental fanfare as the seven clad in orange and gold riding gold-plated craft emerged from the opposite end of the field, taking their positions.

From his box, Eelo began, "Heydey ho. Disen fine day for urak'ai here in Corusca Stadium. Wesa having our visitors, the Nar Bo Sholla Varockees in de green and white. Oursan own boyos in de orange and gold. De players are on de field now."

The men moved into their array for the opening face-off, an alternating ring of green and orange.

"Ertek Ertren for de Comets and Mertgul Kenzay'ro for de Varockees are in de center. The ball is up and ... control to de Comets, as Ertek sends it to Lesir Sammor. The Comets using a two-three-one as deysa move up de field. That's Lesir Sammor to midman Ryalo Ickhan."

A green clad man brought his stick sharply across Ryalo Ickhan's body, slamming against the stick which cradled the ball.

"And deresa wrap check by Gortparnur Orthan'ardan ... No, Ickhan completes de pass across de midline to Jacmer Greren, and de Comets remain in control."

The men on their small hovering craft flew about the field, careening toward one another in apparent defense efforts to disrupt the play and force an interception. As another Comet mid-man feinted right and then reversed to a sharp left, the Varockee defender was left out of position, barely able to avert a collision with the wall as the play moved up the field away from him.

"Greren moves right--no, hesa on a reverse ...Jonwil Tag'ch of the Varockees is unable to pull up and ... reverse thrust just before impact with de wall ..." Eelo narrated the events on the field, giving Tag'ch's near-hit a brief mention before returning to follow the course of the ball. "Greren to Samlo Ryasa as Orthan Zasian sets up on de crease ... Sammor with de screen, and Ryasa to Zasian, and ... score ... The Comets take an early lead."

Holovid cameras switched to display the box shared by Zaivo-Vyas and Hanoor Gaever'gul, who were clearly sharing a joke--inaudible to the viewing audience--at the news of the Comets drawing the first point in the contest.

"Back to centerfield, and itsa Ertek Ertren and Mertgul Kenzay'ro. The ball is up and ... control to de Comets, as Ertren sends it to Sammor ... No, wrist check by Lar'dettan Sharpeer'ryas, and control has passed to de Varockees. Sharpeer'ryas up the outside wing to Gortparnur Orthan'ardan, and itsa Orthan'ardan to Pazgerbar Tyr'ishtag as de Varockees set up a three and three. Lorgrucen Lor'hansil with de sidearm crank, and itsa ... save by Comet goalie Zev Nur. Ball in de crease, picked up by Jarish Centen, and itsa Comet control as they fall back to a two-one-three, and Centen to Greren, over de midline Greren to Ickhan. Ickhan fakes a pass to Ertren, completes to Ryasa. Ryasa to Zasian, and ... Rejected! Navretrav Mar'nurdav sends de ball back down to de midline."

On the field, green and orange flitted about each other, their numbered jerseys a blur from speed.

"Tis picked up by Lar'dettan Sharpeer'ryas, back to de three and three as Sharpeer'ryas moves up the inside wing, pass to Orthan'ardan. Lor'hansil setting up on da crease, and itsa Orthan'ardan to Tyr'ishtag, past de net, and back to Lor'hansil, crank and ... score ... de Varockees tie deesa game."

Jarish Centen moved away from the center of action, raising his hands in a gesture for 'time out'. A whistle from one of the referees, and the two teams moved to their respective sidelines.

"Tis time out called by de Comets. Wesa having sell out crowd today here in Corusca with five hundred forty-four thousand, two hundred ninety-nine paid admissions," said Eelo, the holovid feeds turning back to show Zaivo-Vyas and Hanoor Gaever'gul, and then scanning across the sea of filled seats around the stadium.

A black-and-white clad official made another gesture, and Ertek Ertren and Mertgul Kenzay'ro took up their positions for another face-off as the rest of their respective teams moved into place. On the field, Ertek Ertren won the face-off, but a last-second block put the ball under Varockee control as another Comet player moved sharply against his Varockee counterpart, and the air was split again by the sound of a referee's whistle.

"And wesa back," announced Eelo. "Ertren and Kenzay'ro for de face-off, and tis Ertren connect ... no, falls to control of de Varockees as Orthan'ardan blocks Sammor. A flag on de play. Tis ... against Comets. Two minutes on Ickhan for slashing ... The Varockees now in de one-four-one and man up ... Orthan'ardan to Tag'ch and across de midline to Sharpeer'ryas. Sharpeer'ryas to de crease and tis Lor'hansil, overhand crank and .... SCORE ... de Varockees take de lead."

"Tis face off again, and two in de period. Varockees still man up for another minute. Ertren and Kenzay'ro to de center. And itsa Kenzayr'o with control to Sharpeer'ryas. Varockees setting up de triple deuce, and double pick. Sharpeer'ryas to Orthan'ardan and he crosses de midline. Backfield collision Sammor and Tag'ch. Flag down ... De boyos are up and okiedokie, Varockees still in possession."

"And itsa Sharpeer'ryas to Orthan'ardan, over de midline to Tyr'ishtag. Tyr'ishtag to Lor'hansil ... and Varockees score on de sidearm, taking advantage of de man up. De Varockees lead as de period winds down. Ickhan isen back on de field," announced Eelo, haillu standing tall as he spoke.

On the field, the Varockees were smoothly moving the ball toward the goal as Ickhan moved from the penalty box back onto the field.

"Wesa back to even man, Ertran and Kanzay'ro to de center for de fa-----"

Holovid audio cut out while the men on the field continued their face off in the waning minutes of the first period, as the video cameras continued their display to the galaxy of the game.

Within the stadium, however, the loud sound of an explosion rocked the box of holovid urak'ai announcer Eelo Biree'pek.

Fireworks blossomed in the open sky above the stadium, as rows upon rows of faces tilted upward, bewildered at the premature display. A second explosion from within the box and a bloody haillu dropped down to land on Dunist Laval.

"What the ...?" Dunist exclaimed as several of his section-mates began screaming.

"Look!" cried Reima Laval, pointing up to the billowing flame and black smoke now issuing from Eelo Biree'pek's announcer's box.

Eyes forever retracted with terror, Eelo's head, with only one haillu still appended, rolled down the crowded seats as people began to scream. Some began leaping over seats in an effort to avoid the congestion at aisle-ends. People began shoving one another, slow-moving victims shoved ruthlessly to the ground and trod underfoot. The head came to rest on the playing field as the referee tried vainly to retain order on the field as burning ash from the fireworks came to rest on the crowd and field. One large piece of flaming ash landed upon the craft of Jarish Centen, and before the man could jump free, it burst into a fireball catching Lar'dettan Sharpeer'ryas in the expanding flame, igniting his craft into a second explosion engulfed the Nar Bo Sholla player, who jumped free of the fireball, only to land on the playing field now merely a still, blackened corpse.

The inferno began licking at the seats of adjoining sections, as those within made a headlong rush for the exits. Six exits, through which tens of thousands had streamed, turned now into chokepoints for the stampeding crowds.

The man stood, clad in gray armor underneath the banner proclaiming "Exit One". Blaster rifle in hand, he began picking off his choice targets. _Not every one until they all turn back--no, make it interesting. Keep them guessing if they die now or later._ The lead man, skipping to the half-seen head of a child descending the ramp, a woman exiting a refresher, the next nearest person--single shot kills. Unseen, his smile broadened underneath the full helmet of his battered armor, as his random choices increased the panic.

Exit Two stood blocked by a black-armored man whose blaster rifle mowed down four targets. A pause the width of a hairsbreadth, and then five more fell to his blasts. Indiscriminate, yet single shot kills, met the fleeing crowds here.

The other four exits were similarly blocked by armored figures, whose abilities with blaster rifles sent the terrified crowds running back into the stadium.

A brown-armored woman, fitted with a jet pack, flew above and into the stadium, lobbing small balls into the colliding crowds.

The Jedi in the box with the Nar Bo Sholla senator leaped toward the angel of death. A small blast, just as they collided. It was the brown-armored figure who leaped clear of the heap, the white-clad Jedi remaining still upon the stadium ground.

A third explosion rocked the stadium, collapsing five upper tiers into the tiers below.

With that, the holovid cameras mercifully went black for the horrified audience around the galaxy.

Within the stadium, however, no such mercy was shown to the throngs of people pinned between collapsing sections of permacrete, shattering transparisteel, fired blaster bolts, and small thermonuclear detonators.

Another set of fireworks exploded above the stadium, and the seven armored figures disappeared into the depths of Coruscant.

xXxXx

"Corusca Stadium was home to a terrorist attack," said Maleena Durame, her face schooled in an expression of concern as the holovid news segment led off with the most shocking information of the day. "The re-match between last year's play-off contestants, the Coruscant Comets and the Nar Bo Sholla Varockees was interrupted in the first period by a series of explosions within the stadium. As the capacity crowd sought exit, armored men of unknown origin were stationed at exits with blaster rifles, shooting indiscriminately into the crowds."

She continued her report dispassionately as behind her, a screen displayed the wreckage of the once-proud stadium. "Official counts number the dead at over fifty-four thousand. Three hundred thousand were wounded, many of them critically. Nearly two hundred thousand remain unaccounted for as rescue efforts continue. We have confirmed the deaths of the popular urak'ai announcer, Eelo Biree'pek, whose unique style will be missed by all fans of the Coruscant Comets. Also among the confirmed dead, Jedi Knight Zaivo-Vyas and the Senator from Nar Bo Sholla, Hanoor Gaever'gul."

"No one has yet claimed responsibility for this act," she said.

The screen behind Maleena shifted to display an image of the Senate building, and she continued, "The shocking act of terrorism has led to renewed calls for security increases in the Senate building to allow the vote on the Military Creation Act before further tragedies are allowed to occur. Live with an interview with Senator Ronet Coorr, we go now to our correspondent, Aerena Jahsop."

xXxXx

Mace Windu walked into the study which had once belonged to Master Zaivo-Vyas. The quarters were not, in outward form, different from those belonging to other Jedi. Only in the belongings which chronicled one's life within the Order could one Jedi's room be discerned from another.

Zaivo-Vyas had left behind an orderly room, with holodisks stacked in a neat pile upon the desk. Large green plants bloomed from the planters, carefully tended into a miniature form, as a small artificial stream ran amidst the plants and the carefully placed rocks. Oblivious to the death of the man who had nourished the garden, the stream continued on its soft gurgling path.

"We will need to archive these," said Mace, picking up the disks to hand them to Jocasta Nu.

"Of course," replied Jocasta.

"And find another location for this garden," said Mace. "It would be a shame to dismantle it entirely."

"That would be a matter for your expertise," replied Jocasta. "I shall leave you to that as I have matters to attend to of my own."

"Senseless, really," said Mace, seemingly unaware of Jocasta's departure and inability to hear him. "So senseless." He left the room, seeking some of the younger Jedi to request their assistance in moving the garden.

xXxXx

Hours had passed, the garden moved, and Mace still stood, listening to the sounds of the artificial brook.

"Master Windu," said Jocasta, offering him a datapad. "There is something here that I am sure you will want to read."

"Thank you," replied Mace, taking the datapad and beginning to read. His eyes narrowed as a frown creased his forehead. "I don't understand! I ..."

"The file is quite extensive," said Jocasta.

"Thank you," said Mace. "I'll look into this."

He read the records, his face reflecting increasing puzzlement, and then he went into the archives, looking for the charts.

Jocasta quickly came to his side, and said, "You have read the information, then?"

"Yes," replied Mace. "Now ... where exactly is this Kamino?"

"The name is unfamiliar to me," said Jocasta, dropping in a few commands at the computer terminal where Mace was sitting.

"It's not coming up," said Mace, "yet ... here it is in Zaivo-Vyas' notes."

"Perhaps, if you consider the dates and where else he was, it would narrow down the co-ordinates?" offered Jocasta.

"It's simply not showing up," said Mace. "This doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

"That's odd," said Jocasta, looking over a chart. "Some inconsistencies--could it have been destroyed?"

"The destruction would be in the records, then," said Mace.

"Unless it was recent," said Jocasta. "Perhaps the name he used is not the name in our records? For I cannot find a Kamino in our alphabetical indexing, either."

"There is something here," said Mace, pointing to the odd spot. "It's ... Thank you. I think I see it clearly now."

Jocasta was left shaking her head in consternation as Mace left the archives again.

xXxXx

Long distances made the voice jump and skip, but the blue image of Obi-Wan stood before Mace Windu now.

"I have made as thorough an examination of the situation on Aduba-3 as is prudent," said Obi-Wan. "I do not believe this is the origin of the device. I am afraid that this investigation has reached a dead end, and I shall be returning to Coruscant ..."

"No," said Mace. "I have had new information, and you are the only Jedi near the region ... I need you to make another examination, this time, on the planet of Kamino."

"I am not familiar with--" began Obi-Wan.

"I am sending you the information I have now." Mace interrupted. "There was another terrorist event here in a sporting stadium. Master Zaivo-Vyas was amongst those killed. In archiving his notes, I have found some disturbing information, and I need you to check on it."

"I will do ... but there doesn't seem to be a planet at the co-ordinates," said Obi-Wan.

"Look more closely at the gravitational pull," said Mace. "Someone seems to have altered the records, for reasons I do not know. This is all the more reason why we must ... Please go and ... Force be with ..."

"You're breaking up," said Obi-Wan, and then the blue image of Mace Windu splintered and disappeared entirely.

For several long moments, Obi-Wan stared at the map he had been sent, and then he nodded.


	13. Chapter 11

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit, no intended infringement--just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons.

* * *

Starlight shrank from the elongations of hyperspace to the pinpoints of normal space. Obi-Wan looked ahead, seeing the system where the oddly tugged stars around a void had been on the map he had been sent.

"Well, that must be it, Artoo," he said, getting a whistling response from the astromech droid. "Right where it's supposed to be. Someone ... **altered** the files." _And who could that someone be? Only Jedi can even get in there in the first place, and Jocasta Nu would surely not stand by while someone ... Another puzzle, something to resolve when I'm back on Coruscant. Keep your mind on the here and now, that's what I need to do._

The beep of the astromech droid signaled curiosity.

Closing the subject, Obi-Wan said, "I have no idea who might have done such a thing. There's no point in speculating while we're here, but maybe we'll be able to find some answers. Disengage the hyperspace ring."

Ahead, the planet appeared as a steel-gray orb, mottled by clouds but devoid of the masses of green or brown which might have indicated land mass. Obi-Wan scanned for other ships, finding none. A beep from the console told of a transmission requesting identification. Flipping his signal beacon on, Obi-Wan replied. A moment later, a second transmission gave specific co-ordinates for a place identified as Tipoca City.

"All right, then, Artoo, we should get some answers now," said Obi-Wan, inputting the new co-ordinates and proceeding through the planet's atmosphere, finding a near perpetual storm surrounded him, the winds buffeting his small craft as he traveled across the stormy sky.

As waves crashed against the stilts which held up the gleaming domes of the city, Obi-Wan looked in amazement. _As many worlds I've visited, I've never seen anything quite like this--so beautiful in its way. Much more like the Jedi Temple than I would have expected. I could travel to many worlds again, and never see the like._

With that thought in mind, despite seeing the landing pad, Obi-Wan flew past the city, taking a slow circuit to observe the city from all above-surface angles. Finally, he came back to the landing pad. Bringing his cloak over his robes, he pushed back the canopy. Wind and rain struck at him as he hurried across the permacrete to the nearby tower.

Without warning, a door within the tower opened, revealing an almost dazzling light beckoning him. Obi-Wan hurried inside the brightly lit room, dripping. Silhouetted against the next door, a tall slender being, with a neck of equal parts length and grace, garments fitting close yet somehow gracefully flowing, as though water held in fabric form.

"Master Jedi, so good to see you," a melodic voice greeted him.

Obi-Wan pushed back the hood of his cloak, trying to wipe the worst of the water from his hair and beard.

"I am Tuan We," said the tall slender figure. "The prime minister expects you."

"I'm expected?" said Obi-Wan. _Master Windu said nothing about alerting the Kaminoans in advance that I was coming here. How could he, when it seemed that their location had been hidden for some reason? How, Force take it, could they be expecting me?_

"Of course. Lama Su is anxious to see you. After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren't coming. Now, please, this way."

_All these years. It would seem that small amount of information Master Windu had checks out on that point,_ thought Obi-Wan as he followed. The corridor was as brightly lit as the first room he had entered. As they traveled, he could see through many windows, Kaminoans busy--some looking like Tuan We, others with a crest atop the head.

Tuan We's pace was swift, though Obi-Wan wondered if it were simply a matter of the difference in size, and that this was the normal pace for the Kaminoans, for he had noticed he was nearly dwarfed by the tall, slender beings of this world.

Tuan We stopped, a wave of her hand bringing a door open, and she gestured for Obi-Wan to step through first.

Inside, another Kaminoan, taller yet than Tuan We even before considering the crest on the head, greeted them. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for Obi-Wan to take a seat as an egg-shaped chair descended from the ceiling for the Jedi.

"May I present Lama Su, Prime Minister of Kamino," said Tuan We. "This is Master Jedi ..."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he supplied with a deferential nod, though he still stood, dripping.

Lama Su sat down, gesturing once more for Obi-Wan to do likewise. "I trust you are going to enjoy your stay. We are most happy that you have arrived at the best part of the season."

_A storm like that is the __**best**__? I am not sure I'd want to see what they consider bad weather,_ thought Obi-Wan.

"You make me feel most welcome," replied Obi-Wan.

"Please, sit down," said Lama Su, gesturing once more to the chair. "And now to business. You will be delighted, of course, to hear that we are on schedule. There are two hundred thousand units ready, another million well on the way."

As a storm of questions came to his mind, Obi-Wan merely said, "That is good news."

"Please tell your Master Zaivo-Vyas that we have every confidence his order will be met, on time and in full. He is well, I hope. A leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?"

"I'm sorry." Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to look regretful as his mind swam, information flowing into the gaps of his newest assignment. "I regret to say that Master Zaivo-Vyas was recently killed."

Lama Su blinked. "Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. But I am sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him."

"The army?" said Obi-Wan, unable to contain his surprise.

"The army of clones," replied Lama Su, not noticing the reaction of his guest to his words. "I must say, one of the finest we've ever created."

_How many __**armies **__of clones have they created? And for whom? And why would Master Zaivo-Vyas have taken it upon himself to do such a thing? The Council never approved--or is it something ... no, if the High Council had known of such a thing, Master Windu would not have been as surprised as he was when he gave these instructions._ Reaching through the Force, Obi-Wan considered Tuan We and Lama Su, yet found them utterly without guile.

"Tell me, Prime Minister," said Obi-Wan, picking through his thoughts and eddies of the Force, "when Master Zaivo-Vyas first contacted you about the army, did he say who it was for?"

"Of course he did. The army is for the Republic."

_What is going on here? An army of clones, commissioned by a Jedi Master, for the Republic? Yet ... does the Senate know--with the debates over creating an army, that this ... How ... Who else knows of this matter?_

"You understand the responsibility you incur in creating such an army for the Republic?" asked Obi-Wan, hoping to cover his confusion.

"Of course, Master Kenobi. You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself."

"That's why I'm here." Obi-Wan gave a nod of his head.

With that simple declaration, Lama Su rose, and Obi-Wan followed this cue, leaving the room with Tuan We accompanying the two men.

Sparkling globes of glass lined the walls, the life energy near gale-force as Obi-Wan followed the two Kaminoans into the immense room.

"This is the first phase, obviously," said Lama Su.

"The hatchery." Obi-Wan's tone did not quite rise to the point of questioning. "It's very impressive."

"We had hoped you would be pleased, Master Jedi. Clones can, of course, think creatively. You'll find they are immensely superior to droids, and ours are the best in the galaxy. Our methods have been perfected for centuries," replied Lama Su.

"How many are there? In here, I mean," said Obi-Wan.

"We have several hatcheries throughout the city," replied Lama Su. "This is, of course, the most crucial phase. Our techniques give us a survival rate of ninety percent, though there have been occasional batches that develop ... issues. Nonetheless, we expect clone production to remain steady. With our accelerated growth methods, these here will be fully matured and ready for battle in a decade."

_Two hundred thousand ready, a million on the way? So ... efficient ... the prospect of a steady stream of superbly trained and conditioned warriors is ..._ Obi-Wan stared at one of the glass orbs and the embryo within. _Ten years, and this little creature--this tiny man--will be a soldier. Killing and, likely soon enough, being killed._ With a shudder, Obi-Wan turned away from his study, and turned to Lama Su.

"Growth acceleration?" queried Obi-Wan, as he followed the swift-walking Kaminoans.

"Oh yes, it's essential," explained Lama Su. "Otherwise, it would take a lifetime to grow the mature clones. Now we can do it in half the time. The units you will see soon on the parade ground were started ten years ago, immediately after Zaivo-Vyas placed the order, and they're already quite mature and ready for duty."

"Who was the original?" asked Obi-Wan, finding himself increasingly discomfited by the Kaminoans callous attitude toward the clones they had created.

"A bounty hunter named Jango Fett," explained Lama Su, unaware of Obi-Wan's sensing and ulterior motives. "We had felt that a Jedi might be the perfect choice, but Zaivo-Vyas disagreed and hand-picked Jango himself."

_An army of clones from a Jedi? Would the Force be strong in all of them as well?_ Obi-Wan considered this information, and the underlying questions that had been in Master Windu's orders to him. "Where is this bounty hunter now?" he asked.

"He lives here," said Lama Su. "Of course, he is quite free to come and go as he pleases."

As they continued walking, Obi-Wan could see grown men walking in ranks up to tubes and settling into place to sleep.

"Very disciplined," said Obi-Wan, gesturing.

"That is the key," replied Lama Su. "Disciplined, yet capable of creative thinking. It is a mighty combination. Zaivo-Vyas explained to us the Jedi aversion to leading droids. He told us Jedi could only command an army of life-forms."

_And you considered a Jedi for a host? How could Master Zaivo-Vyas take such a step? How could any Jedi do such a thing, to willingly and unilaterally cross the line to the point of creating an __**army**__ of clones, _Obi-Wan thought, then said, "So, Jango Fett remains on Kamino willingly?"

"The choice is his alone. Apart from his pay, which is considerable, I assure you, Fett demanded only one thing. Curious, really. An unaltered clone for himself."

"Unaltered?" queried Obi-Wan.

"No tampering with the structure to make it more docile," explained Lama Su. "Pure genetic replication, no growth acceleration.

"I should like very much to meet this Jango Fett," murmured Obi-Wan.

Lama Su turned to Tuan We.

Tuan We nodded, and said, "I would be most happy to arrange it for you."

xXxXx

Obi-Wan considered the quarters he had been shown. Surprisingly comfortable, despite the angular shapes of the furnishings and the brilliance of the white lights.

"Scramble Code Five, in care of the old folks' home," dictated Obi-Wan once he was alone, waiting for the response.

The blue image of Obi-Wan on Coruscant, and the blue images of Yoda and Mace Windu--each stood before the true form of their opposites.

"Masters," began Obi-Wan. "I have made contact with Lama Su, the Prime Minister of Kamino."

"Then the information on the location was close to accurate?" said Mace.

"Right," stated Obi-Wan. "From the initial tour, I can say that the Kaminoans are undoubtedly the best cloners in the galaxy. They claim as much, and I see no reason to doubt their claims. They are using a bounty hunter named Jango Fett to create the clone army."

The two Jedi Masters in blue frowned at this declaration.

"Prime Minister Lama Su has informed me that the first battalion of clone troopers are ready for delivery. He also wanted me to remind you that if we require more--and they've another million well on the way to completion--it will take time to grow them."

"A million clone troopers?" asked Mace in obvious disbelief as Yoda's ears went flat.

"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan. "They say that Master Zaivo-Vyas placed the order for the clone army some ten years ago. Did the Council ever authorize the creation of a clone army?"

"No," said Mace Windu flatly, without hesitation.

"I have arranged for a meeting with this Jango Fett," said Obi-Wan. "There is something ... I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Deepens then, this mystery," said Yoda.

"The clones are impressive, Masters," explained Obi-Wan. "Created and trained for one purpose alone. I will report further when I have seen this Jango Fett."

With that, he cut the transmission.

On Coruscant, Mace and Yoda looked at each other for a long time without speaking.

"A clone army. Why would Zaivo-Vyas ..."

"When placed, this order was," said Yoda, "insight us may give."

"And could there be a connection between the attempts on Senator Amidala's life?" said Mace. "If this was done, someone else must know of it ... I cannot believe Zaivo-Vyas would be able to keep so great a secret for so long ..."

"Blind we were, development of this clone army we could not see," stated Yoda, ears swiveling backwards.

"I think it is time to inform the Senate that our ability to use the Force has diminished."

Yoda closed his eyes. "Only the Dark Lords of the Sith our weakness know. If informed the Senate is, multiply, our adversaries will."


	14. Chapter 12

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement--just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers. Reviews would be most gratefully received.

As before, I have used the dream dictionary at www(dot)dreammoods(dot)com(slash)dreamdictionary to assist in the building of Anakin's dream in this scene.

With the cooperation of Mazic and Breha, Padmé had departed Alderaan under the name of Baroness Jalaja Navarre. Anakin, given the name of Damian Kade, piloted the yacht from Alderaan to B'reuse, while C-3PO continued to serve her.

Leaving Alderaan, as they had, seemed strangely liberating to Padmé. For the many years she had known responsibility; life spent in a concentration on public service for the greater good--hardly any time was ever devoted to her own needs and desires. Yet now, as the starlight elongated with the jump to hyperspace, her burden had been shifted to another, and few in the galaxy knew where Padmé truly was, and she felt incredibly light.

"Is there anything I can do to help make you more comfortable, Miss Padmé?" inquired C-3PO.

"I'm quite enjoying the journey so far, Threepio." Padmé smiled. "Some tea, perhaps."

C-3PO began to prepare the requested tea, as Padmé continued, "I find myself feeling so free here. I've spent all my life in the public eye, and even now, even though I hate to think of what I'm leaving behind--it's so rare for me to be just myself, and not the public figure."

C-3PO said nothing, as though he were attempting to comprehend words which held a deeper meaning than what was said on the surface.

She looked at the chair from across the table where Anakin sat, having fallen asleep almost immediately after they had left Alderaan.

_He's quite handsome, in a way, while sleeping,_ thought Padmé as she looked over to the softly snoring Anakin. _And the way he acts--why, I almost think he loves me. He's dangerous, to be sure--a Jedi thinking about things he shouldn't be. Like me, he's got a life spent on the road of public service, but he ... he rebels against his course--or at least the Master who leads him._

She shook herself, such thoughts would lead to places she did not want to traverse.

_We're not very much like each other, _she thought, sipping the tea that C-3PO had brought her_. I have no regrets about the public service that I am pledged to, even if I do like the idea of setting the burden down ... for just a little, anyway._

As the dream began to seize him once more, Anakin restlessly shifted position. For a moment, Padmé thought he might awaken, but he continued to sleep.

_It's everything I've ever wanted. Anakin_ _stood dressed in the manner of a Jedi Master--gleaming white robes and the shining silver of his lightsaber at his waist, admiring his reflection in the mirror. He approached a table laden with a bounty that was beyond even what his childhood dreams could imagine. At his side walked Padmé, dressed in the ivory and gold ball gown of Alderaan, her hair flowing loose and woven with small white star-shaped flowers. Happiness radiated from his mother, and the half-dozen figures whose forms seemed somehow familiar, yet shadowed--he knew they were friends, but somehow could not see their faces. His mother was a free woman. It was just something he knew--a certainty that came welling from nowhere he could pinpoint, yet certainty it was._

_"Dee!" His mother's voice, pleased and proud of him. "I'm so glad you're home."_

_He took another step toward the people, ready to join them at the table. Padmé moved ahead, taking a seat at the table before him._

_Darkness, a great choking cloud of chilling gloom, descended. He had been cut off._

_"Dee, help!" Shmi called to him._

"Mom!" Anakin's voice broke into reality.

_"Mom!"_

_"Dee!" Anguish in his mother's voice._

"I'm coming, Mom!"

_With the hiss of a lightsaber, a thin blue light struggled against the darkness. Beneath his feet, something crunched. There was nothing to see in the pitch black, save for that slender light. He continued forward. Tiny white threads wrapping around him._

_"DEE!" Her voice radiated pain as intense as the earlier joy._

_The table cracked, its sound a resounding thunder. Center of table to the floor, food and drink crashed and spilled. The people who sat at the table remained unmoved, as though they did not notice the destruction._

_"DEE!" His mother's voice now agonized, a searing pain that swept through him._

_Bodies moved in slow motion, as though they had grown too heavy--no, not that, they were becoming rigid, stiff ... non-living. _

_Tiny white threads bound him tightly; he could not move. More and more threads wrapped around him--he struggled futilely against the bonds. He could scarcely breathe._

_"Mom!"_

_The people moved no more, their features impossibly bright--a tapestry on an unseen wall. Before his eyes, the bright colors faded, the threads turning to dust as a wind blew. Happiness vanished as the hot wind blew, a sandstorm of growing darkness. The darkness engulfed him again, as the threads bound him, carrying his lightsaber away into the dark void beyond him._

_"Dee!" More anguish, yet growing more distant, as though she were being carried away from him in the darkness._

_White binding threads tightened, holding him fast._

"No! no!" Anakin began to thrash against the dream-bonds within his seat. "Mom, no!"

"Anakin," Padmé said, recognizing signs of a nightmare.

"No, Mom!" cried Anakin, still asleep.

"Anakin!" said Padmé, shaking him forcefully.

His eyes blinked open and came to focus on Padmé. "What?"

"You seemed to be having a nightmare." She stood, hand hovering above the button which would call Threepio back to the room. "Would you like Threepio to get you some tea?"

"Not really." Anakin straightened his tunic, seeming to try to get his bearings again. "How long was I asleep?"

"You had a good nap," replied Padmé with a smile.

Anakin stared at her, his eyes seeming to bore into her, as he said, "I'm looking forward to this mission I've been given."

Padmé nodded. "It must be difficult, having sworn your life to the Jedi. Not being able to visit the places you like when you wish. Or do the things you like."

"Or be with the people I love?" said Anakin bluntly.

"Are you allowed to love?" asked Padmé, not sure she liked this turn of the conversation. "I thought it was forbidden for a Jedi."

"Attachment is forbidden," recited Anakin. "Possession is forbidden. Compassion--which I would define as unconditional love--is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love."

"You've changed so much." Padmé smiled.

Anakin replied, "You haven't changed a bit."

Padmé blinked as he turned his words back on her.

Anakin continued, "You're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams."

_This is such dangerous territory. For both of us. He is a Padawan learner, a Jedi--and Jedi are not allowed such attachments, he just said so. And what about me? What about all that I have worked so hard for, all my life? The implications are huge--the army, if one is created, would stand beside the Jedi and their duties, but I've stood against it ... and so..._ thought Padmé. Desperate to change the subject, she said, "You were dreaming of your mother earlier." Her tone changed, as she sat back to create distance. "Weren't you?"

Anakin leaned against the back of his heavily upholstered chair, and nodded slowly. "I left Tatooine so long ago. My memory of her is fading." He snapped his eyes back to Padmé, the intensity returned. "I don't want to lose that memory. I don't want to stop remembering her face."

"I know," said Padmé, feeling on more certain ground.

"I've been seeing her in my dreams. Vivid dreams--scary dreams." Anakin made a study of his thumbnail, unwilling to look at Padmé during his admission. "I worry about her."

"I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't," said Padmé sympathetically. "You didn't leave her in the best of circumstances."

Anakin winced, her words painful.

"But it was right that you left. Leaving was what your mother wanted for you. What she needed for you. The opportunity that Qui-Gon offered you gave her hope. It's what a parent needs for her child, to know that he--that you--had been given a chance at a better life."

"But the dreams--"

"You can't help but feel a little guilty about leaving, I suppose," answered Padmé as Anakin shook his head in disagreement. "It's only natural that you'd want your mother off Tatooine--out here with you, perhaps. Or anywhere else that you felt is safer and more beautiful. Trust me, Anakin," she said, resting a hand on his forearm. "You did the right thing in going. For yourself, but more importantly, for your mother."

Anakin could only look at Padmé, unable to argue against what she was saying.

xXxXx

Anakin glanced up from the holovid showing the sights of B'reuse, and said, "I can't wait to get there. It reminds me a lot of Naboo. The way these buildings shimmer in the sunlight, and the way the air always smelt of flowers."

"And the sound of distant waterfalls," said Padmé. "The first time I saw Theed, I was very young. I'd never seen a waterfall before. I thought they were so beautiful, but I never thought that one day I'd live in the palace."

"So did you dream of power and politics when you were a little girl?" said Anakin.

"No, that was the last thing I thought of," replied Padmé with a laugh. "My dream was to work in the Refugee Relief Movement. I never thought of running for elected office. But the more history I studied, the more I realized how much good politicians could do. So when I was eight, I joined the Apprentice Legislators--which is like making a formal announcement that you're entering public service. From there, I went on to become a Senatorial Adviser, and attacked my duties with such passion that before I knew it, I was elected Queen."

Padmé looked at Anakin and shrugged, before continuing. "It was partly because I scored so high on my education certificate. But for the most part, my ascent was because of my conviction that reform was possible. The people of Naboo embraced that dream wholeheartedly, so much so that my age was hardly an issue in the campaign. I wasn't the youngest Queen ever elected, but now that I think back on it, I'm not sure I was old enough. I'm not sure I was ready."

"The people you served thought you did a good job," said Anakin. "I heard they tried to amend the constitution so you could stay in office."

_Why would he pay attention to the politics of a world like Naboo?_ thought Padmé. She replied, "Popular rule is not democracy, Anakin. It gives the people what they think they want, not what they need. And truthfully, I was relieved when my two terms were up. So were my parents! They worried about me during the blockade and couldn't wait for it all to be over. Actually, I was hoping to have a family by now ..." She blushed, looking away. "But when the Queen asked me to serve as Senator, I couldn't refuse her."

"I agree!" replied Anakin. "I think the Republic needs you. I'm glad that you chose to serve--I feel things are going to happen in our generation that will change the galaxy in profound ways."

"A Jedi premonition?" asked Padmé.

"A feeling," said Anakin, fumbling for words to explain. "It just seems to me as if it's all grown stale, as if something has to happen ..."

"I think so, too," replied Padmé.

xXxXx

The water speeder zoomed above the lake, the down-thrusters churning only a slight, almost indistinguishable wake. Every so often, a wave clipped in, and a fine spray broke over the bow. Anakin and Padmé reveled in the cool water and the wind, eyes half closed, Padmé's brown hair flying out behind her.

At the wheel, the craft's driver gave a laugh at every spray, his graying hair spreading out widely. "Always better over the water," he shouted gruffly over the wind and noise of the speeder. "Are you liking it?"

Padmé turned a sincere smile upon him, and the grizzled man backed off the accelerator, and said, "She's even more fun if I put her down. You think you'll like that, Baroness?"

Padmé gave the man a puzzled look, not sure she understood.

"We were going to the island," said Anakin, sounding concerned.

"Oh, I'll get you there!" he said with a wheezing laugh, and pushed forward a lever, and the speeder dropped into the water. He kicked in the accelerator, and the speeder jetted off across the water, no longer smooth in flight, but bouncing across the rippled surface.

Anakin looked from Padmé to the driver, and then caught on to the enjoyment of the bouncing ride. The spray was nearly continuous, thrown up by the prow and washing over them.

"It's wonderful!" exclaimed Padmé.

"We spend so much time in control," replied Anakin. _It reminds me a little of pod racing. It's true that technology tamed __the galaxy, but sometimes I wonder if we lost something--the excitement of living life on the edge of disaster, or just feeling the wind and cold spray._

Below decks, C-3PO made a sound which might have been a moan as the driver put the speeder up on edge so far that it seemed they were about to tip over. "I'm doomed," the golden man remarked to no one, surrounded by luggage.

The craft did not tip, however, and finally the driver slowed the craft and allowed it to drift in against the island dock.

"Thank you," said Padmé.

"It was ... fun," admitted Anakin.

"If it isn't, then what's the point?" replied the driver.

Anakin leaped onto the dock and reached back to offer his hand to Padmé as the driver secured the craft.

"I'll bring the bags up for you," offered the driver. "You go and see what you can see. And I'll check on your droid, too."

The young couple walked up a long flight of wooden stairs, past flower beds and hanging vines. They came onto a terrace overlooking a beautiful garden, and beyond that, the shimmering lake and the mountains rising behind it, all blue and purple.

Padmé leaned on the balustrade, looking out at the view. The water here was still, the light perfect, so that the mountains in the lake were a near perfect replica.

"You can see the mountains in the water," remarked Anakin.

"Of course," replied Padmé.

"It seems an obvious thing to you," said Anakin. "But where I grew up, there weren't any lakes. Whenever I see this much water--every detail of it ..."

"Amazes you?"

"And pleases me," added Anakin.

"I guess it's hard to hold on to appreciation for some things," said Padmé. "But after all these years, I still see the beauty in mountains reflected in the water. I could stare at them all day, every day."

A woman came out of the building, then, and said, "Baroness Navarre?"

Padmé shook herself, and said, "Yes? I was just admiring the view."

"Your cottage has been made ready," said the woman. "You will have a lake-side view on two sides. I trust that it will meet your expectations. If you would like me to show you the way?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Padmé.

For a moment, Anakin remained behind, watching Padmé follow her guide to the cottage. "So was I."


	15. Chapter 13

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement--just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

* * *

Golden flowers, shaped like trumpets, filled the air with a heady perfume as Padmé stood on the balcony of her cottage watching another sunset, her own dress mirroring the sunset with its shades of pink and orange. Hundreds of feet below, water lapped against the shore, a soft heartbeat of a world which had been developed for pleasure. Small white flowers, star-shaped, added an almost indefinable, spiced undertone to the perfume in the air.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said Padmé, as she sensed Anakin's near-silent approach behind her. "The sunset on the water, I could almost imagine ... It's so like Naboo, in a way."

"You wish you could spend more time there," observed Anakin. "On Naboo, I mean."

"Of course," replied Padmé. "It's home. I suppose no one can really help having a bit of homesickness."

"I don't," said Anakin, flatly. "I miss Naboo, though."

"Really?" Padmé turned to him with surprise. _He was there for such a short time ... _

"It's such a ... living place ..." Anakin spread his hands in front of him, as though trying to pluck words from the scented air. "Not like Tatooine. I used to think about being on Naboo when I was feeling lonely during training."

"I didn't realize it had made such an impression on you."

"It was so different," said Anakin. "It wasn't like Tatooine or Coruscant. Those places feel dead, except for the Temple on Coruscant. And I never saw so much water ... I think I love the water."

"I suppose growing up in a desert would do that," Padmé turned to look at him. "I love the water, too. When I was growing up, we used to go swimming every day. There was an island we'd go to, about the same size as this island ... An old man lived there, and he made the most amazing glass from the sands. You could look into it, and it somehow looked like the water."

"Sounds beautiful," said Anakin, his voice dropping to a whisper to add, "like you."

Seeming not to hear him, Padmé continued, "I used to believe you could lose yourself in that glass."

"You could ..." said Anakin, moving forward as he spoke until his lips brushed against hers.

For a moment, Padmé did not resist, closing her eyes, as Anakin pressed closer, until the brush against her lips had turned into a true kiss, slowly deepening with passion.

Sudddenly, though, Padmé pulled back with a small shake. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm sorry." Anakin reluctantly stepped back as well. "When I'm around you, my mind is no longer my own."

He continued to stare at Padmé as she fell silent. Unwilling to form words to reply to Anakin's declaration, Padmé gathered her arms in close, leaning again on the balustrade, looking out over the water deep in her thoughts.

xXxXx

"My Lady Navarre." The black-garbed resort employee paused, waiting for acknowledgment.

"Yes?" Padmé turned.

"The cart is ready for your picnic. The weather should be quite acceptable today."

"Thank you," said Padmé. "Please see that my droid is directed to the oil bath during our absence."

"Of course, my lady," said the woman with a curtsey as Padmé walked out of the cottage.

Anakin was already sitting in the driver's seat of the cart, looking anxious to be en route. Awkwardly, he stepped down to assist Padmé into the cart.

"Have you found a suitable spot for the picnic, Damian?"

"Yes, I think you will be very pleased, m'lady." A roguish grin spread across Anakin's face. _Far enough away that we can be ourselves instead of this stupid charade that keeps us apart no matter what. I should've known they'd think of that._

The air of the hilly meadow was lightly perfumed, as tall lush grasses sprinkled with flowers of a variety of colors and shapes blended together in a scent yet unbottled by the perfumers of the galaxy. The low gurgle of a stream could be heard as it meandered its way through the lowpoint of the meadow. A warm breeze pushed puffballs through the air, forming equally puffy clouds which drifted across the shining blue of the sky. The weather proved fine, almost as though made to order for a picnic--which, on a world such a B'reuse might well have been the case.

_It is a place alive. So warm and soft--like everything I see in Padmé_, thought Anakin. _Perfect, just like her._

A herd of curious-appearing cattle, their bodies absurdly bloated compared to their slender legs, grazed contentedly nearby, oblivious to the couple. Insects buzzed about, swarming through the air to settle on various flowers. Weaving through the puffballs, they bothered neither Anakin nor Padmé who were enjoying their packed picnic fare.

Padmé sat on the grass absently picking flowers, bringing them up to deeply inhale their scents before weaving them into a wreath. Every so often, she darted a glance to Anakin, almost afraid to let him notice. _I almost can't believe a Jedi Padawan could be so ... _Even in her thoughts, Padmé struggled for the word. _Carefree? Joyous? Spirited? Some combination of the three? He doesn't act like the other Jedi--is it the place, or is it just him?_

"Well?" prompted Anakin.

"I don't know," said Padmé dismissively.

"Sure you do! You just don't want to tell me!"

Padmé gave a snort, and said, "Are you going to use one of your Jedi mind tricks on me?"

"They only work on the weak-minded," said Anakin. "You are anything but that."

"All right. I was twelve. His name was Palo. We were both in the Legislative Youth Program. He was a few years older than I ... Very cute. Dark curly hair ... dreamy eyes..."

"Alright, I get the picture!" said Anakin, waving his hands in exasperation, not liking Padmé's tone. He took a breath, and said, "So, whatever happened to him?"

"I went into public service. He went on to become an artist," replied Padmé, "and we drifted apart."

"Maybe he was the smart one."

"You really don't like politicians, do you?" asked Padmé, finding herself becoming angry despite the warm breeze and idyllic setting.

"I like two or three," replied Anakin. "But I'm not really sure about one of them." He smiled, and then tried to finish matter-of-factly, "I don't think the system works."

"Really?" asked Padmé sarcastically. "Well, how would you have it work?"

Anakin stood up, his words intense. "We need a system where the politicians sit down and discuss the problem, agree what's in the best interests of the people, and then do it," he said, as though it were all as simple and logical as that.

"Which is exactly what we do," replied Padmé. At Anakin's doubtful expression, she explained, "The trouble is that people don't always agree what's best. In fact, they hardly ever do."

"Then they should be made to agree."

"By whom?" asked Padmé. "Who is going to make them?"

"I don't know," said Anakin, waving his hands in obvious frustration. "Someone."

"You?"

"Of course not me!"

"But someone."

"Someone wise," said Anakin.

"That sounds an awful lot like a dictatorship," said Padmé.

A mischievous smile spread across Anakin's face as he said, "Well, if it works ..."

_How could he believe such a thing? Isn't he pledged to support the Republic--democracy--just as I have pledged myself?_ thought Padmé before Anakin burst out laughing, and she said, "You're making fun of me."

"Oh no," said Anakin, backing away, and falling to sit on the soft grass once more. "I'd be much too frightened to tease a Senator."

"You're terrible!" said Padmé, picking up a large red berry from the basket between them. She pitched it at him.

Anakin caught the fruit. The tickle of annoyance still not satisfied, Padmé took another large berry and threw it at Anakin. Anakin caught this one as neatly as the first.

_Now what will he do?_ thought Padmé as she tossed the third berry at Anakin.

Starting to juggle the berries, Anakin said, "You're always so serious."

"I'm so serious?" said Padmé. _And what if I am? But then--sometimes ... I've seen people like Palo go off and follow their hearts, while I follow a path of duty. And ... I've known triumph and great joy, but it's always wrapped up in responsibilities and ... maybe I'd like to just ... dive into the water for no reason but laugh._ She pitched another piece of fruit and threw it at Anakin, and he caught it and seamlessly put it up with the others. _Will I make him lose control? _ The tickle of annoyance led her into the basket repeatedly, the berries sailing through the air at Anakin as she slowly began to smile. Each berry joined in the cascade of Anakin's juggling, until finally, too many had gone his way and he lost control, trying to duck from the dropping fruit. Padmé began laughing, clutching her belly.

Caught up in the moment, Anakin sprang to his feet, and cut in front of one of the lumbering grazing beasts, frightening it with his jubilance. The normally passive grazer gave a snort and took up the chase, as Anakin led in circles up a hill.

_What is happening here? I keep ... I can't help but feel guilty a little, playing without purpose, while leaving the task of fighting on against the Military Creation Act to others, while ... I should be out there, somewhere--doing something, not ..._

Topping the hill once more, Anakin was now riding on the beast, but facing toward the tail.

"Anakin!" cried Padmé, her voice carrying concern as the beast sped to a full gallop while Anakin was attempting to stand atop its back. The creature bucked, and Anakin flew to the ground, causing Padmé to laugh again, until she realized how very still he lay.

Padmé stopped, and scrambled over to him. "Dee! Dee! Are you all right?"

She turned him over, seeing a serene expression on his face. Then his face twisted into a stupid expression, and he laughed.

"Oh!" Padmé cried, and she punched out at him. He caught her hand, and pulled her in close.

Abandoning the thoughts that had reinforced her wall of separation from him, Padmé crashed into Anakin, mock-wrestling with fury. Anakin finally managed to roll her over and pin her, and Padmé stopped struggling, suddenly aware of her helplessness. She looked into his eyes and felt the press of his body against hers. Anakin blushed, and let go, rolling away. Then he stood up and very seriously reached his hand out to her, gallantly helping Padmé to her feet once more.

xXxXx

At the sound of the knock on the door, Padmé jumped. She knew who it was, and knew she was safe from the threats which had driven her from the capital--safe from everything but the swirl of emotion which had surrounded her since the ride across the meadow. She took a deep breath to keep her hand from trembling as she reached up for the doorknob.

The door pulled back, Padmé could see nothing but the tall and lean silhouette, backlit by the setting sun. Anakin shifted just a bit, blocking the rosy glow enough so that Padmé could see his smile. He made the move to enter, but she held her ground. It wasn't a conscious decision; she was simply entranced, for it seemed that the sun was setting behind Anakin's shoulders and not the horizon, almost as though he were big enough to dismiss the day. Orange flames danced about his silhouette, dulling the distinction between Anakin and eternity.

Padmé had to consciously remember to breathe. She stepped back and Anakin sauntered in, apparently oblivious to the wondrous moment she had just experienced. He was grinning mischievously, and for some reason she felt embarrassed. She wondered for a moment if she should have chosen a different outfit, as the evening dress she was wearing was black and off the shoulder, showing quite a bit of flesh. She wore a black choker, as well, with a line of sheer fabric running down over the front of the dress, barely concealing her cleavage.

She moved to close the door, but paused and looked back over the lake, admiring the rose-colored tint filtering across the shimmering water.

When she turned back, Anakin was already standing by the table, looking over the bowl of fruit and the settings that had been set out. She watched him glance up at one of the floating light globes, its glow growing as the sunlight began to fade. He playfully poked at it, seemingly oblivious that she, or anyone else, might be watching him, and his smile nearly reached his ears as the globe bounced away from his touch, elongating the sphere of light.

The next few moments of just watching Anakin were quite pleasant for Padmé, but the next few after that, when he started looking back at her, his expression alternately playful and intense, proved more than a bit uncomfortable. Soon enough, though, the pair had settled in at the table, seated across from each other. A resort waitress seamlessly served them and melted into the background.

As they ate, Anakin began recounting some of the adventures he had known over the last ten years, training and flying with Obi-Wan. Padmé listened attentively, captivated by Anakin's flair for storytelling. She wanted to do more, though. She wanted to talk about what had happened out at the meadow, to try to make some sense of it with Anakin, to share with him the solution as they had shared the out-of-bounds emotions and moments. But she could not begin, and so she just allowed him to ramble on, contenting herself with enjoying his tales.

Dessert was a lovely yellow-and-cream colored fruit, and Padmé smiled as the bowl was set before her.

"And when I went to them, we went into ..." Anakin paused, drawing Padmé's full attention, a wry smile on his face. "Aggressive negotiations."

"Aggressive negotiations?" asked Padmé as the waitress delivered Anakin's dessert and melted away once more. "What's that?"

"Uh, well, negotiations with a lightsaber," the Padawan said, still with the wry grin.

"Oh," said Padmé with a laugh, and she went for her dessert, attempting to stab the fruit with her fork.

But the fruit moved, and her fork struck the plate. A bit confused, Padmé tried again. The fruit darted away from her fork as though it were somehow frightened of the tines. She looked up at Anakin, a bit confused and embarrassed, but then she saw him struggling not to laugh, and staring too-innocently at his plate.

"You did that!"

"What?" said Anakin, trying for a wide-eyed innocent look.

Padmé scowled, pointing her fork at him, waving it threatening, and then went for the fruit again, and once more, the fruit dodged and fork struck plate. Before she could scowl at him again, the fruit rose into the air to hover before her.

"That," answered Padmé. "Now stop it!"

Anakin waggled his fingers and the fruit looped about her hand.

"Anakin!"

"If Master Obi-Wan were here, he'd be very grumpy," admitted Anakin. "But he's not here." The fruit floated into his hand. He cut it into slices, and one piece floated upward and toward Padmé

She bit it right out of the air, and laughed. With many fleeting glances, they finished their dessert, moving on to the sitting room as the waitress cleared the table.

The sitting room, with its comfortable chairs and sofa, a huge warm fire blazing in the hearth, should have been comfortable, but realizing they were alone together again, the tension returned almost immediately.

Padmé found herself wishing that he would kiss her again, so desperately, and it was precisely that out-of-control sensation which stopped her. _This is not right,_ she thought. _No matter what I think my heart is telling me now, we each have bigger responsibilities for the time being. I have to deal with the continuing split of the Republic, somehow; and he has to continue his Jedi training._

Anakin settled back into the sofa. "From the moment I met you, all those years ago, a day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought of you," said Anakin, his voice husky and intense. "And now that I'm with you again, I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you makes my stomach turn over, my mouth go dry. I feel dizzy! I can't breathe! I'm haunted by the kiss you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that kiss will not become a scar."

_**I**__ gave him? But he kissed me! _thought Padmé, her hand slowly dropping to her side as she sat, listening in amazement to him.

"You are in my very soul, tormenting me," said Anakin, not a bit of falseness in his tone. This was no ploy to garner any physical favors; this was honest and straightforward, refreshingly so to the woman who had spent most of her life being attended by handmaidens whose job it was to please and entertain dignitaries whose agendas were never quite what they seemed.

"What can I do?" Anakin asked softly. "I will do anything you ask."

Padmé looked away, overwhelmed, finding security in the distracting dance of flames in the hearth. Several moments of silence slipped by uncomfortably.

"If you are suffering as much as I am, tell me," Anakin prompted.

Padmé turned on him, her own frustrations bubbling over. "I can't!" She sat back and struggled to collect herself. "We can't," she said as calmly as she could. "It's just not possible."

"Anything's possible," Anakin replied, leaning forward. "Padmé, please listen--"

"**You **listen," scolded Padmé. Somehow, hearing her own denial brought some strength to her--much needed strength. "We live in a real world. This--this isn't real. Come back to the real world, Anakin. You're studying to become a Jedi Knight. I'm a Senator. If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, they will take us to a place we cannot go ... regardless of the way we might feel about each other."

"Then you do feel something!"

Padmé swallowed hard. "Jedi aren't allowed to marry," she pointed out, deflecting attention from her feelings. "You'd be expelled from the Order. I will not let you give up your future for me."

"You're asking me to be rational," Anakin replied without the slightest hesitation, and his confidence and boldness here caught Padmé a bit by surprise. There was no longer anything of the child in the man before her. She felt her control slip a notch.

"That is something I know I cannot do," he went on. "Believe me, I wish I could wish my feelings away. But I can't."

"I am not going to give in to this," said Padmé with all the conviction she could muster. She finished with her jaw clenched very tightly. _I have to be the strong one here. I __**must **__be strong. For Anakin's sake more than my own._ "I have more important things to do than fall in love."

He turned away, looking wounded, and Padmé winced. Anakin stared into the fire, his face twisting this way and that as he tried to sort through it all. She knew he was trying to find a way around her resolve.

"It wouldn't have to be that way," he said at length. "We could keep it a secret."

"Then we'd be living a lie--one we couldn't keep up even if we wanted to," said Padmé. She felt her lip tremble and bit the inside until she winced. Strengthened, she continued. "I couldn't do that. Could you, Anakin? Could you live like that?"

He stared at her intensely for a moment, then looked back to the fire, seeming defeated.

"No, you're right," he finally admitted. "It would destroy us."

Padmé looked from Anakin to the fire. _Which would destroy me--destroy __**us**__? The action or the thought?_


	16. Chapter 14

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement--just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

I would like to apologize for the long delay--my beta reader had some serious real-life stuff impinge on her ability to beta for me, and I found that, despite several attempts, she is utterly irreplaceable. So, treasure the beta-readers. Good ones are worth their weight in gold and rubies!

"Wow!" Boba Fett exclaimed, rushing across the landing pad to view the sleek starfighter up close.

"Beautiful ship," Jango agreed, strolling to catch up to his son, studying the craft with every stride. He noted the markings and design, the extra firepower, and particularly, the happily tootling astromech droid hardwired into the left wing.

"This is a Delta-Seven." Boba bounced on the balls of his feet, pointing out the rear-cockpit position. Jango nodded, glad that his son had been taking his lessons seriously. These were new ships--so new that they hadn't yet been fitted with hyperdrive engines, Jango realized. Inadvertently he glanced up at the cloudy sky, _Are the parent ships up there? _He shook the thought away, turning back to Boba.

"And what of the droid?" he asked. "Can you identify the unit?"

Boba climbed up the side of the fighter, studying the markings for a moment. He turned back to his father, finger to pursed lips, an intense expression on his face. "It's an Artoo-Dee."

"And is that a common droid for this type of starfighter?"

"No," Boba answered without hesitation. "A Delta-Seven pilot would usually use an Arthree-Dee. It's better at keeping the guns targeted, and the fighter is so maneuverable that handling the laser cannons is tricky. I read that some pilots wind up shooting their own nose cones off in this fighter! They do a snap-roll, coming out over and around, but they haven't compensated the manual swivel ..." As he spoke, he moved his arms over heach other and about, tangling them up in front of him.

Jango was hardly listening to the details, though he was thrilled with Boba's energy and accuracy. "Suppose the pilot didn't need the extra gunnery skills of an Arthree-Dee?"

Boba looked at him curiously, as though he did not understand.

"Would the Artoo-Dee then be a better choice?"

"Yes ..." Boba's halting response betrayed that he had not grasped the implications of such a seemingly small decision such as choosing a droid.

"And what pilot wouldn't need the extra droid gunnery skills?"

Boba stared blankly, but then a smile spread on his face. "You!" he blurted, seeming quite pleased with himself.

Jango took the compliment with an appreciative smile--and it was true enough. Jango could wheel any fighter, and if he ever had the opportunity to fly in a Delta-7, he'd likely choose the same. But that wasn't what he had in mind now, for he knew of one other type of pilot, pilots with heightened senses, who would similarly choose the better nav, but less weapon-oriented droid. Once again, Jango Fett looked up at the sky, wondering if a host of Jedi were about to descent upon Tipoca City.

_Even one Jedi Knight here on Kamino is too many. But who else might make such a choice?_

The bounty hunter fell back in his seat and tightened his face in frustration. Such were the problems with his present obligations for the Trade Federation--they were masters at weaving deception within deception, and Jango Fett could not determine a single focus behind all the threads of their activity. He looked across the room at Boba, who was hard at work poring over the schematics and capabilities of a Delta-7 starfighter, and matching them up against the known strengths and weaknesses of the observed droid.

_Life is so simple for the boy,_ thought Jango with a touch of envy. For Boba, there was the love of and for his father, and his studies. Other than those two givesn, the only real challenge before the boy was in finding enjoyable things to do at those times when Jango was away or busy with the Kaminoans.

At that moment, looking at his son, Jango Fett felt vulnerable, so very vulnerable, and it was not an emotion with which he was the least bit comfortable. He almost told Boba to go and pack right then and there, so they could blast away from Kamino, but he recognized the danger of that course. He could go to his boss and report this news, and bring Boba to safety. Yet, to do so now, he would be leaving without learning anything about his potential enemy, this Jedi Knight who had arrived unexpectedly. His boss would want that information .

And Jango needws that information. If he took off now, after receiving a note from Tuan We telling him that he would be receiving a visitor later that same day, it would be fairly obvious that he was fleeing. Then he would have a Jedi Knight on his tail, and one whom he knew practically nothing. Jango continued to stare at Boba, the only thing that really mattered.

"Play it cool," he whispered to himself. "You're nothing more than a clone source, well-paid enough to wnat to know nothing about why you're being cloned."

This was his litany, and his plan. _It has to work. For Boba's sake._

XxXxX

"Come," said Tuan We, "we would be pleased to continue our tour for you, Master Jedi."

"Thank you," replied Obi-Wan, now in dry clothing once more.

They entered a large classroom, desks and students in rows of military precision. They all appeared to be about ten years of age. All were dressed the same, the same haircut, exactly the same fatures and postures and expressions. Obi-Wan reflexively looked at the shining white walls of the huge room, almost expecting to see mirrors there, playing a trick on his eyes to make one boy seem to be many.

The students went about their studies without paying any more heed to the visitors than a quick glance.

_Disciplined,_ thought Obi-Wan. _Much more so than any normal children. These were __**born**__ to be soldiers._

"And so these were started five years ago?" Obi-Wan stared in concentration, trying to hide his discomfort.

Tuan We nodded, and said, "You wish to inspect the final product now? We would like your approval before you take delivery."

The callousness of it all struck Obi-Wan profoundly. _Units. Final product. But these are living beings we're talking about. Living, breathing, thinking ... To create clones for such a singular purpose, under such control, even stealing half their childhood--it's almost too much._

Obi-Wan's thoughts churned silently as they continued through a commissary next. Here hundreds of adult clones--all young men--sat in neat rows, all dressed in red, all eating the same food in the same manner, as regimented as though marching in battle even at mealtime. The tour continued along through an astonishing array of areas, showing Obi-Wan the entire routine of the clones at every level of their development. The culmination came later on, on a balcony sheltered from the brutal wind and rain and overlooking a huge parade ground.

Below them, thousands and thousands of clone troopers, dressed in white armor and wearing full-face helmets marched and drilled with all the precision of programmed droids. Entire formations, made up of hundreds of soldiers, moved as one.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" asked Tuan We.

Obi-Wan looked up at the Kaminoan, to see the pride glowing in her eyes. _Magnificent--and terrible. Yet, there are no ethical dilemmas for the Kaminoans. Perhaps that is why the Kaminoans are so good at cloning--their consciences never get in the way._

Obi-Wan offered a silent nod as he imagined the brutal efficiency this group could exhibit in battle, in the arena for which they were grown. _And this is what fueled Senator Amidala's opposition to the creation of an Army of the Republic--the inevitable conclusion is war._

XxXxX

A wave of Tuan We's hand brought forth the chime of an unseen bell, reminding Obi-Wan yet again of how foreign this world of Kamino, and this city of Tipoca, really was. He didn't give it much thought, though, for he was focused on the locking mechanism on the door before him, an elaborate electronic clasp and bolt. Quite a bit of security, it seemed to him, given the supposedly genteel nature of Jango Fett's relationship with the Kaminoans, and the obvious control the cloners held over their city. Was the locking mechanism designed to keep people out, or to keep Jango in?

_Likely the former,_ he reasoned. _Jango was a bounty hunter, after all. Perhaps he had made more than a few dangerous enemies._

He was still studying the device when the door suddenly opened; revealing a young boy, an exact replica of those Obi-Wan had been viewing in his stay on Kamino.

_The identical one that Jango had demanded, only this one is __**actually **__ten years old, _thought Obi-Wan.

"Boba," Tuan We said with great familiarity, "is your father home?"

Boba Fett stood staring at the human visitor for a long moment. "Yep."

"May we see him?"

"Sure," answered Boba. He stepped back, but his eyes never left Obi-Wan as the Jedi and Tuan We stepped across the threshold.

"Dad!" yelled Boba.

_Curious, _thought Obi-Wan, _given that this is a clone and not a natural son. Was there a connection here? A real one? Had Jango wanted the exact replica not for any professional gain, but simply because he wanted a son?_

"Dad!" the boy shouted again. "Tuan We's here!"

Jango Fett walked in, dressed in simple shirt and trousers. Obi-Wan recognized him immediately, though he was many years older than the oldest clone's appearance, his face scarred and pitted, and unshaven. His body had thickened with age, but still physically imposing, much like many of the old gutter dwellers Obi-Wan encountered in various far-flung places. A few extra pounds, sure, but those covered muscles were hardened by years of tough living. Tattoos crossed both of Jango's muscular forearms, done in a strange design that Obi-Wan did not recognize.

Glancing up, he recognized the clear suspicion with which Jango was eyeing him. _The man is on edge here, dangerously so,_ realized Obi-Wan.

"Welcome back, Jango," remarked Tuan We. "Was your trip productive?"

Obi-Wan studied the bounty hunter intensely. _Back from where? _But Jango was a professional, and his expression revealed not the slightest tic or wince.

"Fairly," the man casually offered. He continued to size up Obi-Wan as he spoke, his eyes narrowing in an almost open threat.

"This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," said Tuan We, her tone lighter, obviously an attempt to relieve some of the palpable tension. "He's come to check on our progress."

"Is that right?" If Jango cared, his tone didn't show it.

"Your clones are very impressive," Obi-Wan said. "You must be very proud.

"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe, Master Jedi."

"Aren't we all?" Obi-Wan finally broke eye contact with Jango as he spoke, scanning the room, looking for clues. He focused on the half-open door through which Jango had appeared and thought he saw pieces of body armor in there. Before he could scrutinize the sight any more closely, though, Jango walked in front of him, pointedly blocking his view.

"Ever make your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?" Obi-Wan asked, rather bluntly.

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Possibly..." The bounty hunter's gaze again became suspicious.

"Then you met Master Zaivo-Vyas there?" Obi-Wan could not say why he had put the question out--it was not a logical follow-up, but somehow, he sensed a need to gauge the reaction of this man.

There was no reaction, however, nor did Jango Fett move a centimeter out of Obi-Wan's line of sight, and when the Jedi tried to alter his angle to gain a view, Jango said, "Boba, close the door."

Not until that bedroom door shut did Jango Fett move to the side, and then it seemed to Obi-Wan as if the man was stalking him. "Master who?" asked Jango.

"Zaivo-Vyas. Isn't he the one who hired you for this job?"

"Never heard of him," Jango replied, and if there was a lie in his words, Obi-Wan could not detect it.

"Really?"

"I was recruited by a man called Apollon on one of the moons of Bogden," Jango explained, and again it seemed to Obi-Wan the man was being truthful.

"Curious ..." muttered Obi-Wan. He glanced down, surprised and at a loss as to what all of this might mean.

"Do you like your army?" asked Jango Fett.

"I look forward to seeing them in action," replied the Jedi.

Jango continued to stare at him, to try to see the intent behind his words, Obi-Wan knew. And then, as if it hardly mattered, the bounty hunter gave a toothy smile. "They'll do their job well. I'll guarantee that."

"Like their source?"

Jango Fett continued to smile.

"Thank you for your time, Jango," Obi-Wan said against that uncompromising stare. Then he turned to Tuan We and started for the door.

"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi," came the reply. It was heavy with double meaning, almost like a veiled threat.

But Obi-Wan wasn't about to call him on it. Jango Fett was clearly a dangerous man, streetwise and cunning, and likely better than most with any weapon handy. Before he pushed things any further, Obi-Wan realized that he should relay this new information back to Coruscant and the Jedi Council. The clone army was indeed amazing, and more than a little unsettling, and meeting the source made the situation make little sense.

With Tuan We beside him, Obi-Wan left the apartment, and the door slid closed behind him. The Jedi paused and focused his senses back, even reaching out with the Force.

The door lock quietly secured.

XxXxX

"It was **his** starfighter, wasn't it, Dad?" Boba Fett asked. "He's a Jedi Knight, so he can use the Artoo-Dee."

Jango gave his son an absent nod.

"I knew it!" Boba squealed, but then Jango abruptly stole the moment.

Jango fixed Boba with a no-nonsense look that the young boy had learned well not to ignore.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Pack your things. We're leaving."

"But--"

"Now," said the bounty hunter, his tone foreclosing any objections. Boba practically tripped over himself, scrambling for his bedroom.

Jango Fett shook his head. He didn't need this aggravation. Not for the first time, the bounty hunter questioned his decision to relay information for the Trade Federation. _Could they have followed the trail from Razi Nartana? __**Did**__ I leave a trail?_ He remembered how adamant the Trade Federation had been, that the death of the Senator Amidala was critical to securing their allies. Jango had demurred that he did not undertake such assassinations; the Trade Federation had finally sweetened the offer until Jango had thought it foolish to refuse--he and Boba would be set up forever on a planet of their choosing. Nartana had failed, and then there had been the brilliantly orchestrated event at Corusca Stadium. _And instead of being set for life, now I'm in the crosshairs of the Jedi Knights._ Jango looked across the way to Boba. _This is not a place I want to be at this time. Not at all. Time to cash in and get out for Boba's sake._


	17. Chapter 15

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers. I am dreadfully sorry for the long delay in posting. Life became ... extremely complicated (involving divorce and criminal charges against my ex), and although this entire fiction is written and just in need of final proofing, I was too wrapped up in being safe to post. But I'm back and will get the rest of this fiction posted.

I should note here that Shmi was not sold to Cliegg Lars, nor was she freed. The Lars/Whitesun family will not be present in this episode.

* * *

Padmé awoke suddenly, her senses immediately tuning in to her surroundings. Something was wrong, she knew instinctively, and she jumped up, scrambling about out of fear that another of those centipede creatures was upon her.

But her room was quiet, with nothing out of place.

Something had awakened her, but not something in here.

"No!" came a cry from the adjoining bedroom, where Anakin was sleeping. "No! Mom! No, don't!"

Padmé slipped out of bed and ran to the door, not even bothering to grab a robe, not even caring or noticing that she was wearing naught but a revealing silken shift. At the door, she paused and listened. Hearing cries from within, followed by more jumbled yelling, she realized that there was no immediate danger, that this was another of Anakin's nightmares. She opened the door and looked in on him.

He was thrashing about on the bed, yelling "Mom!" repeatedly. Unsure, Padmé started in.

But then Anakin calmed and rolled back over, the dream, vision or nightmare, apparently past.

Then Padmé did become aware of her revealing dress. She moved back through the door, shutting it gently, then waited for a long while. When she heard no further screaming or tossing, she went back to her bed.

She lay awake in the dark for a long, long while, thinking of Anakin. _I wanted to be in there with him, beside him, holding him-helping him through his troubled dreams. But ..._ she shook herself to dismiss the notion. _We already covered this ground-dangerous ground. It cannot be. We agreed that it cannot be. And such an agreement does **not** include me climbing into bed beside Dee._

xXxXx

The next morning, Padmé found Anakin on the east balcony of the lodge, overlooking the lake and the budding sunrise. He was standing by the balustrade, so deep in thought that he did not notice her approach.

She moved up slowly, not wanting to disturb him, for as she neared, he realized that he was doing more htan thinking here, that he was actually deep in meditation. Recognizing this was a private time for Anakin, she turned and started away, as quietly as she could.

"Don't go," Anakin said to her.

"I don't want to disturb you," she replied, surprised.

"Your presence is soothing."

Padmé considered those words for a moment, taking pleasure in them. _I have no business enjoying hearing such things from him. He is a Jedi, and this is a path that we determined cannot be followed. Still, he is attractive ... I mustn't. He would be among the greatest that the great Jedi Order has ever known, and I cannot see him give that up._

"You had a nightmare again last night," she said quietly, when Anakin at last opened his blue eyes.

"Jedi don't have nightmares," he replied defiantly.

"I heard you," Padmé replied quickly.

Anakin turned to regard her. There was no compromise in her expression-she knew perfectly well that his claim was ludicrous, and she let him know that she knew it.

"I saw my mother," he admitted, lowering his gaze. "I saw her as clearly as I see you now. She is suffering, Padmé. They're killing her! She is in pain!"

"Who?" Padmé asked, moving toward him, putting a hand on his shoulder. When she looked at him more closely, she noted a determination so solid that it took her by surprise.

"I know I'm disobeying my mandate to protect you," Anakin tried to explain, "I know I will be punished and possibly thrown out of the Jedi Order, but I have to go." And when they throw me out there will be no reason for you to refuse me.

"Go?"

"I have to help her! I'm sorry, Padmé," he said. She saw from his expression that he meant it, that leaving her here was the last thing he ever wanted to do, no matter how pleasant these surroundings were. "I don't have a choice."

"Of course you don't. Not if your mother is in trouble."

Anakin gave her an appreciative nod.

"I'll go with you," she decided.

Anakin's eyes widened. He started to reply, ready to argue, but Padmé's smile held his words in check.

"That way, you can continue to protect me," she reasoned. Somehow, this seemed perfectly logical. "And you won't be disobeying your mandate."

"I don't think this is what the Jedi Council had in mind. I fear I'm walking into danger, and to take you with me-"

"Walking into danger," echoed Padmé. She laughed. "A place I've never been before."

Anakin stared at her, hardly believing what he was hearing. He couldn't resist, though, and his smile, too, began to widen. For some reason he did not quite understand, the Padawan found a good measure of justification in his abandoning the letter of his orders now that Padmé was in on, and agreeing with, the plan.

xXxXx

The provided cover had, through a circuitous route, provided Padmé with access to the credits she needed to purchase the small spaceship-an older model, its quarters quite cramped. Neither Padmé nor Anakin could miss the stark contrast when they took this starship out of hyperspace and saw the brown planet of Tatooine looming before them. B'reuse, which had so reminded them of Naboo, was a place of green grasses and deep blue water, with cloud patterns swirling all across it. Tatooine was just a ball of brown, hanging in space as barren as B'reuse had been alive.

"Home again, home again, to go to rest," Anakin recited a common children's rhyme.

"By hearth and heart, house and nest," added Padmé.

Anakin looked over at her with surprise. "You know it?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"I don't know," replied Anakin, embarrassed. "I mean, I wasn't sure if anyone else ... I thought it was a rhyme my mother made up for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Padmé. "Maybe she did-maybe hers was different than the one my mother used to tell me."

Anakin shook his head doubtfully. I'm glad, really, that she knew that rhyme, like it's a common gift from mothers to children. And it makes something else that Padmé and I have in common.

"They haven't signaled co-ordinates yet," noted Padmé.

"They probably won't, unless we ask," replied Anakin. "Things aren't very strict here, usually. Just find a place and park it, then hope no one steals it while you go about your business."

"As lovely as I remember it."

Anakin looked at her and nodded. How different things were now than that decade before when Padmé had been forced to land on Tatooine with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon in order to effect repairs on her ship. He tried to manage a smile, but the edge of his nervousness kept it from appearing genuine. Too many disturbing thoughts assaulted him. Is my mother all right? Was my dream a premonition of things to come? A replay of something that's already happened? How much has changed?

Anakin brought the ship down fast, breaking through the atmosphere and soaring across the sky. "Mos Espa," he explained when the skyscape of the city came into view against the horizon.

He went in hard, and some protests did squeal over the comlink. But Anakin knew his way around this place as surely as if he had never left. He did a flyby over the edge of the city, and then put the starship down in a large landing bay amidst a jumble of vessels of all merchant and mercenary classes.

"You can't just drop in uninvited!" barked the dock officer, a stout creature with a piggish face and spikes running down the length of his back and tail.

"It's a good thing you invited us, then," said Anakin calmly, with a slight wave of his hand.

"Yes, it's a good thing I invited you, then," the officer happily replied.

"Threepio, watch over the ship while we're away," said Padmé, and she then exited the ship with Anakin. "Anakin, you're bad."

"It's not like there are dozens of ships lined up to fill the bay," replied Anakin, feeling pretty good about himself and the ease with which he had Force-convinced the piggish officer. He waved down a floating rickshaw pulled by an ES-PSA droid, a short and thin creature with a wheel where its legs should have been.

Anakin gave it the address and off it went, pulling them behind in the floating rickshaw, charging along the streets of Mos Espa, expertly zigging and zagging to avoid the heavy traffic, and blasting forth a shrill sound whenever someone didn't get out of the way.

"Do you think he was involved?" Padmé asked.

"Watto?"

"Yes, that was his name, right?" said Padmé. "Your former master?"

"If Watto has hurt my mother in any way, I will pluck his wings from his back," said Anakin, meaning every word. _I don't know how I really feel about Watto. It will be so different seeing him now, even if he has nothing to do with bringing any harm to Mom. Watto did treat me better than most in Mos Espa treated their slaves, he never beat me that often, but still ... Watto wouldn't let Mom go when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bought out my slave debt, and if anything happened to her ... it's kind of his fault._

"Here, Espasa," said Anakin to the droid, and the rickshaw glided to a stop in front of a shop all too familiar to Anakin.

There, sitting on a stool near the door, fiddling with an electronic driver on a broken piece of equipment that looked like a droid component, was a rounded, winged Toydarian with a long snout. A black round hat adorned his head, and a small vest was pulled about as far as it would go around his girth. Despite the changes, Anakin recognized him immediately.

He had paused for so long in just staring at Watto that Padmé got out before him and held her hand to help him.

"Wait here," she instructed the droid. "Please."

"_No! Not that one-that one_," shouted Watto at the broken component and the trio of pit droids who were scrambling all about trying to help.

"Huttese," explained Anakin.

"I know," replied Padmé, translating. At Anakin's expression of surprise, she said, "Do you think it's easy being the Queen?"

Anakin shook his head and looked back to Watto, then glanced at Padmé once or twice as they neared. "_Greetings, Watto_!"

"_What's happening?_" replied Watto, surprised.

"_Nothing much_," replied Anakin. "_I came to talk to you, Watto_." His words were barely audible over the clamoring pit droids.

"_Go shut down_," yelled Watto at the trio, and on command, the droids immediately shut down and snapped back into their storage positions.

"_Where's Xa'ej_?" asked Anakin.

"_What's that? Do I know you? A Jedi here? Whatever it is, I didn't do it_," said Watto.

"He doesn't recognize you," Padmé whispered to Anakin, trying to hold back her laughter at Watto's last statement.

"I'm looking for Shmi," said Anakin bluntly.

Watto's eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Who would mention two of my old slaves in as narrow a space of time_... The Toydarian looked from Anakin to Padmé and back to Anakin again.

"Deak? It can't be_,_" said Watto.

"It is," said Anakin. "They call me Anakin now."

"You sure sprouted," said Watto. "Wee-hoo. A Jedi ... Waddya know? Hey, maybe you couldda help with some deadbeats who owe me a lot of money ..."

"My mother," said Anakin, firmly, interrupting.

"Oh, yeah, Shmi. She's not mine no more. I sold her," said Watto.

"Sold her!" said Anakin.

"Years ago_,_" explained Watto. "Sorry, Deak, but you know-business is business_._"

"Where would I find her now?" said Anakin, knocking over the stack of parts that Watto and the pit droids had been working on when he approached

"You thinking I keep track of that?" said Watto.

Xa'ej, looking little different than she had when Anakin had lived here, shuffled forward. "_Dee, it has to be_." She sniffed the air. "_Yes, that's Dee. Your mother, she went to somewhere other side of Mos Eisley, I heard. Working for a moisture farmer there_."

"Can you narrow it down more?" said Anakin, and he glared at Watto.

"All right, all right," grumbled Watto. "I check my records."

"You do that," said Anakin with a hint of menace in his voice. "I'd like to know."

Fortunately for Watto, his records were sufficiently complete to give the name-Len Kravold-and the location of his moisture farm.

"Stay for awhile, Deak," offered Watto after providing the information.

Without a word, Anakin turned about and walked away, Padmé following. _I will never look at Watto and the shop again. Unless he's lying about what happened to Mom, or if he has done anything to hurt my mother._

"Back to the lot, Espasa," he said to the droid after he and Padmé had gotten back into the rickshaw. "Fast."

"Ya sure I can't get ya something to drink?" called Watto from the door of his shop, but they were already rushing away, kicking up dust in their wake.

"_Deak ... a Jedi_," remarked Watto. "_Whaddya know_ ..."

xXxXx

Anakin took the starship out even more furiously than he had brought it in, blasting away from the lot and nearly colliding with a small freighter as it maneuvered to put down. Calls of protest came into him from Mos Espa control, but he just switched off the comm and zoomed off across the city. Soon after, they passed over the race grounds where, in his youth, he had often raced in his pods, but Anakin now barely glanced at it as he put the ship out straight over the desert, heading for Mos Eisley. When that port came into view, he veered to the north and crossed past it, moving higher in the sky.

They spotted one moisture farm, and then another, and then the third, almost in a direct line from the city.

"That one," Padmé said. Anakin nodded grimly, and brought the ship down on a bluff overlooking the homestead.

"I'm really going to see her again," he breathed, shutting down the engines.

Padmé squeezed his arm and offered him a comforting smile.

"You don't know what it's like, to leave your mother like that," he said.

"I leave my family all the time," she replied. "But you're right. It's not the same. I can't imagine what it's like to be a slave, Anakin."

"It's worse to know your mother is one."

Padmé nodded, conceding the point. "Stay with the ship, Threepio," she instructed the droid again.

As they walked toward the homestead, a thin, gray droid, clearly weatherbeaten, bent stiffly and worked on some sort of fence sensor. Then he rose with a jerky motion, seeing their approach.

"Hello," said the droid, whose voice worked more smoothly than his body. "How might I be of service?"

"I've come to see my mother," explained Anakin. "Shmi."

"I think ..." said the droid, "we should go indoors." With that, the droid turned toward the homestead, motioning with his hand for the couple to follow.

Anakin and Padmé exchanged nervous glances. Anakin could not shake the feeling of doom that lingered long after the imagery of his nightmares had faded.

"Master Len!" called the droid, now in the courtyard of the small house. "Might I present two visitors?"

A pair of youngsters, apparently teenaged, emerged from the house first, slowing at the sight of their visitors.

"I'm Anakin Skywalker," he said as the two slowed.

"A Jedi?" said the teenaged girl.

"I had a feeling you might show up," said a gruff voice from the doorway, as a heavyset man emerged from the house as well. "Len Kravold. My son and daughter, Nial and Kirsi."

"And I'm Padmé," she offered, despairing of Anakin's ability to remember to introduce her.

"I'm looking for my mother, Shmi," said Anakin.

"Come inside," said Len.

Unable to shake the feeling of doom, Anakin followed. Len and Nial took seats, as did Anakin and Padmé, while Kirsi disappeared into the kitchen.

"It was just before dawn," said Len.

"They came out of nowhere," put in Nial.

"A band of Tusken Raiders," explained Len.

A sinking feeling nearly buckled Anakin's knees, and he slumped into the seat across from Nial. He'd had some experience with Tusken Raiders, but on a very limited basis. Once he had tended the wound of one gravely injured Raider, and when the Tusken's friends showed up, they had let him go-something unheard of among the more civilized species of Tatooine. But still, despite that one anomaly, Anakin didn't like hearing the name of his mother spoken in the same breath as the grim words "Tusken Raiders".

"Your mother had gone out early to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators," explained Len. "From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her. Those Tuskens walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters."

"We'd seen many signs that they were about," piped in Nial, suggesting that there had been some controversy leading up to Shmi's capture. "She shouldn't have gone out!"

"We can't live huddled in fear!" barked Len. Catching the glower on Anakin's face, he continued. "All signs were that we'd chased the Tuskens away. We didn't know how strong this raiding band was-stronger than anything any of us have ever seen. Shmi wasn't the only one taken, and ... Well, thirty went out, but only four returned. Continuing the search was ... pointless. She's been gone a month now, and there's little hope she's lasted this long."

Anakin felt these words as a stinging slap, and he retreated from them, back into himself, back into the Force. He reached out, using his bond with his mother to try to somehow feel her present in the Force. Then he shot to his feet.

"Where are you going?" asked Nial.

"To find my mother."

"No, Anakin!" cried Padmé.

"Your mother's dead," said Len. "Accept it."

Anakin glowered at them all, and said through a clenched jaw, "I can feel her pain. Continuing pain. And I will find her."

A moment of silence followed, and Nial said, "Take my speeder bike." He jumped up and strode by Anakin.

"I know she's alive," Anakin said, turning to face Padmé. "I know it."

Padmé winced, but said nothing as Anakin moved to follow Nial.

"You're going to have to stay here," Anakin said.

"Anakin ..." protested Padmé.

"I know she's alive," Anakin said, staring out at the dunes.

"Find her," whispered Padmé.

"I won't be long," declared Anakin. Straddling Nial's speeder bike, he kicked it to life and rocketed away across the dunes.


	18. Chapter 16

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

All reviews would be most welcome.

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"I have made contact with Jango Fett," said the blue image of Obi-Wan Kenobi to the sequestered pair of Jedi Masters, Yoda and Mace Windu. "There is something ... I cannot put my finger on it, precisely, but I believe that he has some connection with the attempts upon the life of Senator Amidala. He also stated that he did not know Zaivo-Vyas, though the Kaminoans said that he had been selected by him. I do not sense falsehood on the part of either."

"Into custody, take this Jango Fett," instructed Yoda. "Bring him here. Question him, we will."

"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan. "I will report back when I have him."

Obi-Wan moved along the corridor carefully. He knew nothing of Jango Fett's accomplishments, but he figured they must be considerable, given the selection of the man as the prototype for the clone army. Pausing, he closed his eyes and reached out to the Force, searching for hidden enemies. A moment later, convinced that Jango wasn't in the immediate area, he approached the door. Gently, he ran his fingers along the frame, sensing for potential traps, then finally touched the locking mechanism. Holding one hand there, he tried the door.

It did not budge.

Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber, thinking to shear through the portal, but then changed his mind, preferring subtlety. He closed his eyes and sent his strength through his outstretched hand and into the lock, manipulating the mechanism easily. Then one hand going to his lightsaber, he tried the door again, and it slid open.

As soon as he viewed the room inside, he knew that he wouldn't be needing his weapon. The apartment was in complete disorder. The drawers of every cabinet hung open, some lay on the floor, and the chairs were knocked all askew.

To the side, the bedroom door was open, and it, too, was a wreck. All the signs pointed to a hurried departure.

Obi-Wan glanced all about, looking for some clue, and his gaze finally settled on a thin computer screen set on a counter in the main living area. Rushing to it, he turned it on and recognized it at once as a security network, tied in to various cams set about the immediate area. Obi-Wan scrolled from view to view, noting the corridor he had just traversed and various angles of the apartment itself. An outside view of the area showed the apartment's rain-lashed roof-and he could see himself through the transparisteel window.

He continued his scroll, widening the lens and zooming in on anything suspicious.

Then he got a shot of a nearby landing pad and an odd-looking ship with a wide, flat base, narrowed to a point on the closest end and thinning as it climbed to a small compartment, perhaps large enough for two or three men.

Rushing about the parked craft was a familiar figure, either Boba Fett or another clone. Obi-Wan smiled and nodded knowingly as he followed the boy's movements, recognizing from the fluidity and randomness of some small movements that this was indeed Boba and not a perfectly controlled and conditioned clone.

Obi-Wan's grin didn't hold, though as another familiar figure came into view. It was Jango Fett, he was sure, dressed now in the armor that he had half-glimpsed during his earlier visit to the apartment. He bolted away from the apartment and ran down the corridor, looking for a way out.

xXxXx

"Yeah, I'll let you fly it," Jango said to Boba.

Boba punched a fist into the air in triumph, thrilled that his father was going to let him get behind the controls of _Slave I._ It had been a long time, _months!_, since Boba had been allowed to sit behind the controls.

"Not to take her out, though," Jango added. Boba's grin faded a few shades toward a more neutral expression "We're going out hot, son, but we'll take her back out of lightspeed early so you can get some time working her about."

"Can I put her down?"

"We'll see."

Boba knew that his father really meant "no," but he didn't press the point. He understood that something big and dangerous was going on around him, and so he decided to take whatever his dad offered, and be happy with that. He hoisted another bag and climbed up the ramp to the small storage hold. He looked back at Jango as he did so, then looked past Jango, to a human form rushing out of the tower's turbolift and toward them through the driving rain.

"Dad! Look!"

As Jango swung about, Boba's eyes went wider still. The running figure was their Jedi visitor-and he was drawing his lightsaber and igniting a blue blade that hissed in the downpour.

"Get on board!" Jango called to him, but Boba hesitated, watching his father pull out his blaster and fire off a bolt at the charging Jedi. With amazing reflexes, Obi-Wan snapped his lightsaber about, deflecting the bolt harmlessly wide.

"Boba!" Jango yelled.

Shaking himself from the trance, Boba scrambled up the ramp and into _Slave I._

Obi-Wan launched himself through the air at the bounty hunter. Another blaster shot followed, then another, and the Jedi easily picked them both off, deflecting one and turning the other back at Jango. But as the bolt ricocheted toward him, the bounty hunter leapt away, his rocket pack flaring to life, sending him up to the top of the nearby tower.

Obi-Wan tumbled headlong, turning while he rolled to come around as Jango fired again. Without even thinking of the movement, letting the Force guide his hand, the Jedi brought his lightsaber to the left and down, knocking the energy bolt aside.

"You're coming with me, Jango," he called.

The man answered with a series of shots, a line of bolts coming at the Jedi. The lightsaber went alternately left then right, picking off each one, and when Jango altered the patter, left, right, left, right, then right again, the Forced guided Obi-Wan's hand true.

"Jango!" he started to call out. But then he realized that the bounty hunter's latest shot was not a bolt but an explosive pack, and the next moment he was diving, enhancing his leap with the Force.

All of _Slave I_ recoiled from the explosion outside, and the jolt sent Boba tumbling to the side. "Dad!" he cried. He scrambled to the viewscreen, flicking it on and orienting the cam on the scene below.

He saw his father immediately, and burst out in tears of relief. He calmed himself quickly, though, scanning the area for the enemy Jedi, and saw Obi-Wan coming over from a roll, back to his feet-and blocking another series of bolts with seeming ease.

Boba scanned the panel, trying to remember all his lessons about _Slave I_, glad that he had been so diligent in his studies. With a wicked grin that would have made his father proud, Boba fired up the energy packs and clicked off the locking mechanism of the main laser.

"Block this, Jedi," he whispered. He took a bead on Obi-Wan and pulled the trigger.

"You've a lot to answer!" Obi-Wan called to Jango, his voice sounding thin in the thunderous downpour and lashing wind. "It'll go easier on you, and on your son, if -"

He stopped suddenly, registering the report of a heavy laser somewhere in his subconscious. The Force had him moving instinctively before he even understood what was happening, leaping and flying across the air in a double somersault.

He landed to find the ground shaking violently under his feet, quaking from the thunder of _Slave I_'s heavy laser cannon, which swung around to follow him.

Obi-Wan had to dive again, but this time the bouncing report sent him sprawling to the ground, his lightsaber skidding from his grasp across the rain-slickened surface. The faint hint of Qui-Gon's reproach tiptoed across his memory.

Fortunately, _Slave I_'s cannon went quiet, the energy pack depleted for the moment, and Obi-Wan wasted no time leaping to his feet and charging at Jango Fett, who was coming hard his way.

A blaster bolt led the bounty hunter in, but Obi-Wan leapt above the streaking line of energy, flying forward and spinning around to snap-kick the weapon from Jango's hand.

The bounty hunter did not flinch. He charged right into the Jedi as Obi-Wan landed, looping his arms over Obi-Wan's and bearing him backward.

He tried to wrestle Obi-Wan to the ground, but the Jedi's feet were too quick for that, setting him in perfect balance almost immediately. He slid one leg between the bounty hunter's feet and started to twist to the side, weakening Jango's hold on his arms.

Jango smiled wickedly and snapped his forehead into Obi-Wan's face, dazing him for a moment. The bounty hunter pulled a hand free and launched a heavy punch, but realized his mistake immediately as the Jedi ducked the blow and did a tight, stationary somersault right under the swinging arm, double-kicking out as he came over, his feet slamming Jango in the chest and throwing him backward.

Now Obi-Wan had gained the initiative and he used it with a fierce charge, slamming into the stumbling bounty hunter, thinking to bring him down to the ground beneath him, where the encumbering armor the man worse would work against him.

But Jango showed the Jedi why he had been chosen as the basis for the clones. He went with the flow of the tackle for a moment, then suddenly reversed his footing and his momentum, stopping Obi-Wan's progress cold. Even without training in the ways of the Force, Jango's instincts seemed too close to those of the Jedi.

Jango launched a left hook. Obi-Wan ducked and snapped out a straight right in response. Jango slipped his head to the side so that the blow barely grazed him. A short rocket burst had him in the air and spinning a circle kick out at Obi-Wan, who dropped to his knees and ducked it, then came up high in a leap, over the second kick as Jango came round again.

Now Obi-Wan snapped off a kick of his own, but Jango accepted the blow against his lowered hip and snapped his left arm down across the Jedi's shin, locking the leg long enough for him to drive a right cross into Obi-Wan's inner thigh.

The Jedi threw his head and torso back, lying flat out and lifting his left leg as he did, kicking Jango under the side of his ribs. A sudden scissor-twist, right leg going down and across, left leg shooting across the other way above it, had Jango and Obi-Wan spinning sidelong. Obi-Wan caught himself with extended arms as he turned facedown, broke his feet from their hold on Jango, and mule-kicked the falling man backward. Then, going down to the platform to launch himself right back up to his feet, he turned about and rushed forward, gaining an advantage on the off-balance and struggling Jango.

A right cross smashed the bounty hunter across the face, followed by a looping left hook that should have laid the man low. But again, with brilliant reflexes, Jango ducked the brunt of that blow and caught the surprised Obi-Wan with a sudden and short, but heavy, left and right in the gut.

The Jedi's right hand waved across between his face and Jango's, and he used a quick Force shove to throw the man back a step until he could straighten and find a defensive posture once more.

Jango came right back in, fiercely, wildly, kicking and punching with abandon.

Obi-Wan's hands worked vertically before him, hardly moving, amazingly precise, turning blow after blow harmlessly aside. He turned one hand in and down suddenly, taking the momentum from a heavy kick, then came right back up to lift Jango's jabbing fist up high. Then he snapped his hand straight out, his stiffened fingers smashing against a seam in the bounty hunter's armor. Jango winced and fell back. Obi-Wan launched himself forward, diving onto the man, going for the victory.

But Jango had an answer, firing his rockets and lifting both himself and the grappling Jedi up into the air. A burst of sidethruster sent the pair out past the landing pad proper to the sloping skirt of the structure.

Jango's hands worked almost imperceptibly, twisting in and about the Jedi's arms and hands, expertly loosening Obi-Wan's grip. Then he fired his thrusters, left and right, causing a sudden and repeated jerk that broke him free of Obi-Wan's grasp.

Obi-Wan hit the deck hard and slid perilously close to the edge-close enough to hear the great waves breaking against the platform's stilts below him. He caught hold, and reached into the Force, using it to grab his lightsaber, recognizing he was suddenly vulnerable.

He heard a shot from the side, not the screech of a blaster bolt, but a _pfizzt_ sound, and rolled as far as he could. But not far enough. He lost his concentration, along with his grasp on his lightsaber, as a thin wire slid under his wrists, then wrapped about them, securing them tightly.

And then he was sliding, back up the sloping skirt and across the platform, towed by the rocket-man. With reflexes honed by years of intensive training, and with the Force-strength of a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan snap-rolled his body forward, back up over his outstretched arms, tumbling to his feet, then leaping out to the side as the towline again went taut, jerking him along. He rolled about a pylon and came back to his feet again, now having the leverage of the metal pole helping to hold him there.

Reaching deeply into the Force once more, he grounded himself, becoming, for an instant almost as one with the platform. Immovable. The wire snapped tightly, but Obi-Wan didn't budge. He felt the angle of the pull change dramatically as the rocket-man plunged to the deck, his pack breaking away.

Obi-Wan started around the pole, but stopped and shielded his eyes as Jango Fett's rocket pack exploded with a burst of light and a tremendous concussion.

"Dad!" Boba Fett cried as the rocket pack blew apart, his face coming right to the viewscreen. But then he saw Jango, off to the side and apparently unharmed, though tugging frantically against the pull of the wire-that was now being controlled by the Jedi.

Boba slapped one hand helplessly against the screen, mouthing "Dad" again, and then he winced as the Jedi slammed into his father, kicking and butting him, and both of them, locked together, went rolling off the back edge of the landing pad, sliding fast down the skirt and toward the raging ocean.

Obi-Wan kicked and tried to find his way back to the Force, but Jango punched him repeatedly. Obi-Wan could hardly believe that the bounty hunter would waste the effort, with certain death awaiting them both at the end of the slide and fall. He managed to pull back somewhat and saw Jango lift one forearm, a strange smile on his face. The bounty hunter clenched his fist, and a line of claws popped forth from the armor.

Obi-Wan instinctively recoiled as Jango lifted that arm higher, but then the bounty hunter slammed it down, not on Obi-Wan, but on the platform skirt. At the same time, Jango worked his other hand, releasing the locking mechanism of the wire-launching bracelet, and it slid free of his arm.

Jango screeched to a halt, and Obi-Wan slid past him.

"Catch a rollerfish for me." Jango's parting words barely carried over the storm as Obi-Wan fell over the lip and down toward the raging whitecaps.

"Dad! Oh, Dad!" Boba Fett cried in relief as he spotted his father clambering back over the skirt lip and onto the platform. Jango climbed to his feet and stumbled toward _Slave I_, and Boba rushed to the hatch, sliding it open and reaching down to help his father aboard.

"Get us out of here," the dazed and battered Jango said, and Boba grinned and rushed to the control panel, firing up the engines.

"I'll put her right to lightspeed!"

"Just break atmosphere and take her straight out!" Jango ordered, and his words came out with a growl of pain as he held his bruised side. Then he noticed his son's wounded look. "Get the nav computer on line and have it set the coordinates for the jump," he conceded.

Boba's smile beamed brighter than ever, the Jedi in the water forgotten. "Liftoff!" he shouted.

xXxXx

Obi-Wan used the Force to grab the trailing, loose end of the wire that still held him by the wrists, and he threw that end out, looping it over a crossbeam in the platform structure. His descent stopped with a sudden jerk. He glanced around, then began to swing, back and forth, gaining momentum until he was far enough out to pull himself free of the bond and drop lightly onto a small service platform, barely above the lashing waves.

He took only a moment to catch his breath, and then opened the door of the service turbolift with a wave of his hand. Even before the door opened at the landing platform, he heard the engines of the bounty hunter's ship roar to life.

He came over the lip, spotting his lightsaber immediately and calling it to him with the Force. But he was too late. The ship was already shuddering, ready to blast away.

Rain and steam pouring all about him, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood there for a long while until _Slave I_ disappeared from view. He looked around at the platform, replaying the battle in his head, his respect for this bounty hunter, Jango Fett, growing considerably. _No question about it,_ thought Obi-Wan. _Whether Zaivo-Vyas personally, or someone else, he chose well. The man is good-full of tricks, and full of skill. But there are too many unanswered questions here. I have a very bad feeling about this._

Obi-Wan made his way to his own craft, and opened the channel back to transmit the news, finding only Mace Windu receiving the report.

"A rocket pack and gray armor?" repeated Mace. "Transmitting an image from Corusca Stadium."

"That's him," said Obi-Wan, recognizing the distinctive blue on the helmet.

"Something told me that would be the case," replied Mace. "We have narrowed possibilities to look for these assassins to these three co-ordinates. Transmitting now. Check them out, and report back when you have more information."

"All right," replied Obi-Wan.

"And may the Force be with you." The blue image of Mace winked out.


	19. Chapter 17

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

Boba sat quietly, sensing the tension, as _Slave I_ blasted away from Kamino. _It was so cool! I shot that laser cannon and it was fun. I knocked that Jedi down, and his lightsaber went flying off ... they're not so tough after all._ Boba stole a glance at the intense expression on Jango's face and held his tongue. _Dad'd bite my head off, talking about it now,_ Boba sat quietly as he mulled over other times he had seen that expression on Jango's face.

In silence, Jango worked the controls as Boba rested against the wall furthest from his father. Jango's face creased with the frown as he set the coordinates for the jump to hyperspace. "Come on, come on," Jango said repeatedly, rocking back and forth as if urging the ship on, and glancing over at the sensors every few seconds as if he expected a fleet of starships to be chasing them away.

Then he gave a shout of victory and punched the hyperdrive, and Boba went back against the wall, watching the stars elongate.

Jango Fett slumped back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief, his expression softening almost immediately. "Well, that was a bit too close," he said with a laugh.

"You smashed him good," Boba replied, his excitement beginning to bubble up again. "He never had a chance against you, Dad!"

Jango smiled and nodded. "To tell the truth, Son, he had me in real trouble there," he admitted. "After he dodged that explosive pack, I'd about run out of tricks."

Boba frowned at first, wanting to argue against anyone ever getting the upper hand on his father, but then, as he considered the moment Jango had mentioned, his frown became a wide smile. "I got him good with the laser cannon!"

"You did great," Jango replied. "You fired at just the right time, and were right there, ready to help me in when it was time for us to go. You're learning well, Boba. Better than I ever believed possible."

"That's because I'm a little you," the boy reasoned, but Jango was shaking his head.

"You're better than I was at your age, and by a long way. And if you keep working hard, you'll be the best bounty hunter this galaxy's ever seen."

"Which was your plan from the beginning with the Kaminoans, right, Dad? That's why you wanted me!"

Jango Fett moved over and lifted one hand to tousle Boba's hair. "That and a lot of other reasons," he said quietly. _For reasons that I dare not put into words_. "And in every regard, in every hope and dream, you've done better than I ever expected."

There was nothing that anyone in all the galaxy could ever have said to young Boba Fett to make him feel better than those words from his father.

Jango took _Slave I_ out of hyperspace a bit early, so that Boba could have some time piloting the ship on the approach to Geonosis. For Boba, sitting in the chair beside his father, working the controls deftly, even showing off a bit, there could be no greater moment, and the boy was saddened by the sight of the red planet, Geonosis, and the asteroid belts that ringed it.

"Security's tight here," Jango explained, taking the helm. "It'll be better if I put her down."

Boba sat back in the chair without complaint. He knew his father was right, and even if he **had** disagreed, he wouldn't have done so openly.

xXxXx

The asteroids rolled along their silent way, undisturbed. In a deep depression on the back side of one such rock huddled a small starfighter, its definitive outline and consistent colors showing stark contrast to the rough edged and bleeding, broken mineral streaks of the asteroid.

"Blast. And this is why I hate flying," Obi-Wan said to his droid, and the droid's responding beeps showed that he was in complete agreement. Unlike many of his Jedi associates, Obi-Wan Kenobi had never much enjoyed space travel, let alone piloting.

"Have you finished calculating the trajectory?" Obi-Wan asked.

A whistle and beep from R2 indicated an affirmative, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. "Let's go, then," he said.

Clearing the asteroid belt, R2 gave a series of whistles and beeps, and Obi-Wan adjusted his scan screen, locking on to a huge fleet of vessels settled on the inner side of the asteroid belt.

"Trade Federation ships," he mused aloud, as he angled to get a better view. "So many?" He shook his head in confusion, noting several of the great battleships among the group; their unique design made them hard to miss-a sphere surrounded by a nearly enclosed ring. _If the clone army was for the Republic, commissioned by a Jedi Master, and Jango Fett was the basis for the clones, and the trail led here-where the Trade Federation appears in strength ... It simply doesn't make sense. Too many riddles, and not enough answers. But there will be no answers up here. I'll have to get closer to find out how these threads are woven._

Careful to use the asteroid belt as a shield between himself and the Trade Federation fleet, Obi-Wan broke atmosphere and went down low almost immediately, ducking below any tracking systems that might be in place, skimming the red plains and broken stones, weaving around the buttes and mesas. The whole of the planet seemed a barren and arid red plain, but his scanners did pick up some activity in the distance. Obi-Wan skimmed that way, climbing one mesa and running low to its far end. He slid his ship under a rocky overhang and put her down, then climbed out and walked to the mesa edge.

The night air had a curious metallic taste to it, and the temperature was comfortable. A strong breeze blew in Obi-Wan's face, carrying that metallic taste and odor, and the occasional strange cry.

"I'll be back, Artoo."

"Ooooo," whistled the droid, a long low note.

"You'll be fine," Obi-Wan assured the droid. "And I won't be long." Glad to be back on the ground again, Obi-Wan checked his bearings, measured against the area where he had noted the activity, and started off, moving along a rocky trail.

xXxXx

The trail was narrow and steep, but at least Obi-Wan was back on solid footing.

Or almost solid, he realized, as a shrill shriek split the air, startling him. His foot slipped. He nearly tumbled, but caught his balance. Below him a scattering of stones fell loose, bouncing down the side of the mesa.

The Jedi drew out his lightsaber but did not ignite it. He moved along cautiously, down and around a bend in the rocky path.

He saw the large, lizardlike creature coming for him its huge fangs dripping lines of drool. It stood on strong hind legs, its little forelegs twitching eagerly. His lightsaber hummed to life and Obi-Wan dived down to the side, slashing back as he fell, opening the creature's side from foreleg to hind. The creature landed and tried to turn, but as it spasmed in pain, it overbalanced and fell off the trail, plummeting hundreds of feet and shrieking all the way.

Obi-Wan had no time to watch the descent, though, for another of the beasts appeared, coming at him fast, its toothy maw open wide.

The Jedi filled that maw with lightsaber, shearing through teeth and gums, driving the blade right through the back of the creature's head. He pulled hard to the side, the energy blade tearing right through the beast's skull, and turned to fast yet another leaping beast. Falling back and down, he let the lizard fly past, then he came up immediately and started to pursue. But abruptly he stopped, reversed his grip, and stabbed out behind him, impaling a fourth creature. He spun about, flipping the weapon from his right hand to his left, then slashed it out the side of the dying beast as he completed his circuit, coming right around to face the one that had leapt past.

The creature circled slowly, seemingly sizing him up, and Obi-Wan turned with it, but kept his eyes and ears scanning the area.

He tried to scare the creature off with a long, low cry of a predatory beast from another world harsh as this, and with two of its companions lying dead on the rocks and a third having gone over the cliff, he fully expected it to flee.

But not this fierce beast. It charged suddenly, jaws snapping.

A sidestep, forward step, and overhand slash had the creature's head rolling free on the ground.

"Fun place," the Jedi remarked after a while, when he was confident that no more of the creatures were about. He put his weapon away and moved along, and soon after rounded another corner of the narrow outcroppings that served as a path down the side of the mesa.

A great plain spread out wide before him with many tall shapes in the far distance, darkness rendering it impossible to judge whether natural or not. Obi-Wan took out his electrobinoculars and peered across the plain. He saw a cluster of great towers-not natural stalagmites like those he had seen dotting the landscape, but shaped structures. A roll of his finger increased the magnification, of both size and available light, and he scanned slowly to the side.

Trade Federation starships, scores of them, settled on platforms lined the region. Obi-Wan watched in amazement as another platform rose beside one ship and thousands of battle droids stepped off it and into the vessel, which then lifted away.

Just as quickly, the departing ship was replaced by another starship settling down on the platform. Another platform rose to the side, and again, thousands of droids stepped off to board the waiting battleship, and that one, now filled with droid soldiers, lifted away.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. Scanning the eastern horizon, Obi-Wan tried to gauge the amount of time remaining before dawn, frowning in concentration as he tried to calculate whether he could make the run before the light found him.

_Not if I have to keep on creeping down the side of this mesa_, he realized. Obi-Wan shrugged and stepped ahead, closing his eyes and finding his power in the Force. Eyes closed against the falsehoods that might be presented to his eyes, Obi-Wan leapt out, lifting himself with the Force to ease his descent. Many feet down, he hit one bluff, then sprang away and fell once again, and again, half bouncing, half flying his way down to the dark plain.

The sun was still below the eastern rim, though the land was beginning to lighten around him, when he reached the grandest tower of the complex. The entryway was heavily guarded by battle droids, but Obi-Wan had no intention of going anywhere near that area. Using the Force and his own conditioning, the Jedi scaled the tower, until he came to a small window.

He slipped in silently, and moved from shadow to shadow, then ducked behind a wind curtain as he heard the approach of a pair locked in expressions of a perpetual scowl and deep in conversation. The creatures approached, wearing little clothing. Skin was reddened just as the air around them-the metallic tang in the air thicker down on the plain than it had been above. Their skin hung loose, flaps and rolls in many places about their slender frames while leathery wings lay folded against the bony shoulders. Their heads were large and elongated, their skulls ridged top and side, and they had thick-lidded, bulbous eyes.

"Too many sentients," said one.

"It is not your place to question Archduke Poggle," scolded the other, and grumbling, the pair continued on their way.

Denying curiosity, Obi-Wan moved out behind them, going the opposite way. He slipped from shadow to shadow along a narrow corridor lined with pillars. He couldn't help but see the contrast between this place and Tipoca City. Where Tipoca City was a work of art-rounded, smoothed, glass and light; this place was rough-edged, with all sharp corners and utilitarian features.

The Jedi moved along, coming to an open vent, sharp noises and pounding echoing up from it. He dropped to the ground and looked all about, then crawled and peered over the edge.

A factory, a huge alignment of conveyor belts and pounding machines, lay below, in a wide-open area. Obi-Wan watched in blank amazement as many, many Geonosians-these without wings unlike the pair that had walked past him-worked at various stations assembling droids. At the far end of the conveyor, completed droids stepped off under their own power, walking away down a distant corridor.

_To the platforms that would lift them to waiting Trade Federation starships_.

With a shake of his head, Obi-Wan ran along, and then he sensed something, fleeting but definite. He followed his instincts along the maze of corridors, at last coming to a vast underground chamber, with huge vaulted ceilings and rough-styled arches. He started across, moving pillar to pillar, sensing that something or someone was near. He heard their voices before he saw them, and he fell flat against the stone.

A group of six figures walked past him, four in front and two behind. Two Geonosians were in that front row, along with a Nemoidian viceroy whom Obi-Wan knew all too well and a man whose features were also recognizable from busts the Jedi had seen in the Temple on Coruscant.

"Now we must persuade the Commerce Guild and the Corporate Alliance to sign the treaty," that former Jedi, Count Austerus, was saying. The man was tall and regal, with perfect posture and a graceful gait. His hair was silver and perfectly trimmed, and his elegant features, strong jaw, and piercing eyes completed the look of a man who had once been among the greatest of the Jedi. He wore a black cape, clipped at his neck by a silver chain, and a black shirt and pants of the finest materials. In looking at him, in feeling his presence, Obi-Wan understood that nothing less would ever suit this one.

"What about that Senator from Naboo?" asked the Nemoidian, Nute Gunray, his beady eyes and thin features seeming smaller still beneath the tripronged headdress he always wore. "Is she dead yet? I'm not signing your treaty until I have her head on my desk."

_At last, something that makes a degree of sense. A personal grudge,_ thought Obi-Wan, as he nodded. _Of course he would want Amidala dead, even if her voice of opposition to an army of the Republic is working in his favor. Amidala had embarrassed the Nemoidian badly in the Battle of Naboo._

"I am a man of my word, Viceroy." Obi-Wan did not recognize this speaker, though he was sure that he might be able to find the orange-clad milk-eyed being in the records he would retrieve once he was back at his ship.

"With these new battle droids we've built for you, Viceroy, you'll have the finest army in the galaxy," said the Geonosian whom Obi-Wan guessed might be the Archduke Poggle he had heard spoken of. He didn't look much like the winged commoners and workers that Obi-Wan had seen. His skin was lighter, more a grayish tan than red-tinted, and his head was huge, his large scowling mouth protruding just a bit, giving him a fierce appearance; an elongated chin that seemed more a long beard halfway down his torso.

They continued their banter, but had moved out of earshot by then, and Obi-Wan didn't dare step out to follow. They moved across the way, through an archway and up a flight of stairs.

After a short pause to make sure they were well along, Obi-Wan rushed out, peeking through to the stairs, then crept up them, coming to a narrow archway overlooking a smaller room. Inside, he saw the six who had passed, along with several others, notably three opposition Senators the Jedi recognized. First came Po Nudo of Ando, an Aqualish who looked as if he were wearing a helmet with great goggles, but was not, of course. Beside him sat neckless Toonebuck Toora of Sy Myrth, with her rodentlike head and wide mouth, and the Quarren Senator Tessek, his face tentacles waggling anxiously. Obi-Wan had met this trio before, back on Coruscant.

_Yes, _thought Obi-Wan, _it seems I have walked into the center of the hive._

"You have met Shu Mai?" Count Austerus, seated at the head of the table, asked the three Senators. "Representing the Commerce Guild." Across the way, Shu Mai nodded deferentially. Her delicate and gray, wrinkled head was set on a long neck, and her most striking feature, aside from long and pointy horizontal ears, was a hairstyle that looked much like a skin-covered horn, protruding out the back of her skull, rising up and curving forward.

"And this is San Hill, distinguished member of the InterGalactic Banking Clan," Austerus went on, indicating a creature with the longest and narrowest face Obi-Wan had ever seen.

Those gathered about the table murmured their greetings, nodded to each other, for many moments, and then they went silent, all eyes settling on Count Austerus, who seemed to Obi-Wan in complete control here, even above the Archduke of the planet.

"As I explained to you earlier, I'm quite convinced that ten thousand more systems will rally to our cause with your support," the Count said. "And let me remind you of our absolute commitment to capitalism ... to the lower taxes, the reduced tariffs, and the eventual abolition of all trade barriers. Signing this treaty will bring you profits beyond your wildest imagination. What we are proposing is complete free trade." He looked to Nute Gunray, who nodded.

"Our friends in the Trade Federation have pledged their support," Count Austerus went on. "When their battle droids are combined with yours, we shall have an army greater than anything in the galaxy. The Republic will be overwhelmed."

"If I may, Count," said one of the others, one of the two who had trailed Rex Austerus to the room.

"Yes, Passel Argente," Count Austerus said. "We are always interested in hearing from the Corporate Alliance."

The huddled and nervous man offered a slight bow to Rex Austerus. "I am authorized by the Corporate Alliance to sign the treaty."

"We are most grateful for your cooperation, Magistrate," replied Austerus.

Obi-Wan recognized that exchange for what it was, a play for the benefit of the other, less enthusiastic, people at the table. Count Austerus was trying to build some momentum.

That momentum hit a bit of a bump a moment later, though, when Shu Mai piped in. "The Commerce Guild at this time does not wish to become openly involved." However, she smoothed it over immediately. "But we shall support you in secret, and look forward to doing business with you."

Several chuckles erupted from about the table, and Count Austerus only smiled. "That is all we ask," he assured Shu Mai. Then he looked to the distinguished member of the Banking Clan, and all the other gazes settled on San Hill, as well.

"The InterGalactic Banking Clan will support you wholeheartedly, Count Austerus," San Hill declared. "But only in a nonexclusive arrangement."

Obi-Wan settled back, trying to sort out the implications of it all. Count Austerus had it all falling together here, a threat beyond anything the Republic had expected. With the money of the bankers and the commercial and trade guilds behind him, and this factory-and likely many others like it-churning out armies of battle droids, the potential danger was staggering.

_Was that why Zaivo-Vyas had commissioned the clone army? Had the Master sensed this growing danger, perhaps? But if that was true, then why did the trail lead from Jango Fett to this group on Geonosis? Or is it mere coincidence, and the armor is a false lead?_

Obi-Wan wanted to stay and listen in some more. _A balance I must find, between gathering more information and gaining the time to return to my ship and get a warning out across the galaxy to the Council. It is time to be on my way._

Over the last hours, Obi-Wan had seen nothing but armies, clone and droid; _soon, dreadful soon, it will be all coming together very quickly in an explosion beyond anything the galaxy has been in many centuries. And the luxury of taking the time to gather all the information we need, to reflect rightly on the will of the Force, those may be denied us. Every moment the Council has warning of these armies is essential._


	20. Chapter 18

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

And I know it's not dignified to beg-but please, if you enjoy this tale, take the time to give me a review and let me know what you're enjoying (or not).

* * *

The hours were unbearable for Padmé. While the people of the household-Len, and his children Nial and Kirsi were friendly enough, she could barely speak to them, so worried was she for Anakin. She had never seen him in a mood like the one that had taken him from the moisture farm, his determination so palpable, so consuming, that it seemed almost destructive. She had felt Anakin's power in that parting, an inner strength beyond anything she had ever known.

If his mother was indeed alive, and she believed that Shmi was, since Anakin had said so, Padmé knew that no army would be strong enough to keep the young Jedi from his mother.

She did not sleep that night, rising often from her bed and pacing all about the compound. She waandered into the garage area, alone with her thoughts-or so she believed.

"Hello, Miss Padmé."

"Threepio! I told you to stay ..." Padmé's voice faltered as she saw her ship within the garage.

"Master Nial, I believe he said his name was. He said the ship was not safe where it was, and asked permission to move it here. The young Jedi, he agreed before he left."

"I see." Padmé found herself torn between annoyance at their presumption and at herself for failing to think to ask for the garage space. "I suppose it is more dangerous than we might know out there."

"Can you not sleep?" asked C-3PO.

"No, I have too many things on my mind, I guess," replied Padmé.

"Are you worried about your work in the Senate? I am sure that Master Bail will do everything in his power to assist your Miss Dormé."

"I'm sure he will, too," said Padmé, finding these words awakened another twinge of discomfort. "But tonight, no-I'm more worried about Anakin. He's out there, and in danger-"

"He is a Jedi," said C-3PO. "I am quite certain he an take care of himself. Even in this awful place."

"Awful?" asked Padmé.

"I have barely been here any time at all, and look at this." C-3PO held out an arm didplaying the number of sand grains lodged in his joints.

Padmé looked all around, her gaze settling on a chain hoist over an open tub of dark liquid. "You need an oil bath," she said.

"Oh, I **would** welcome a bath!"

Padmé moved to the oil tub and began to sort out the hoist chain. Within moments, she had C-3PO secured and everything in place, lowering the droid into the oil.

"I'm sure they won't mind," said Padmé. "They have been going out of their way to be good hosts under the circumstances."

xXxXx

Anakin traveled through great canyons of multicolored stone, across dunes of blowing and shifting sand, and along an ancient, long-dry riverbed. His only guide was the sensation of Shmi, of her pain. But it was not a definitive homing beacon, and though he suspected he was moving in the general direction, the landscape of Tatooine was vast and empty, and none knew how to hide among the sand and stones better than the Tusken Raiders.

On a high bluff, Anakin paused and scanned the horizon. Off to the south, he noted a huge vehicle, resembling a giant tilting box, plodding along on a single huge track. Nodding with recognition of the Jawas, and well aware that no one knew the movements of all creatures among the desert better than they, he kicked his speeder bike away.

He caught up to them soon after, riding into a group of the brown- and black-robed creatures, their inquisitive red eyes glittering from the shadows of huge cowls, their ceaseless chatter humming like strange music all about him.

It took him a long time to convince the Jawas that he wasn't interested in purchasing any droids, and a longer time to get them to understand that he was merely looking for information about any Tusken Raiders.

The Jawas talked excitedly among themselves, pointing this way and that, hopping all about. Jawas were no friends of the Tuskens, who preyed on them as they preyed on anyone else whom they found vulnerable. Even worse to the Jawa salesman mentality, Tuskens never purchased any droids!

The group eventually came to agreement, and pointed as one to the east. With a nod, Anakin sped away. The lack of monetary compensation seemed to aggravate the Jawas, but Anakin had no time to care.

As soon as he came upon the grisly scene, Anakin knew that it was the work of the Tuskens. Three farmers, likely some of those whom Len had been with before being forced to return, lay dead about a campfire, their bodies battered and torn. A pair of eopies, long-legged dromedaries with big padded feet and equine faces that showed little intelligence, stood tethered nearby, lowing mournfully, and beyond them hung the smoking remains of a speeder.

Anakin ran his fingers thorugh his short hair. "Calm down," he told himself. "Find her." He fell within himself then, within the Force, and sent his senses out far and wide, needing the confirmation that his mother had not yet met a similar fate.

A stab of pain assaulted him, and a cry that was both hopeful and helpless entered his mind.

"Mom," he mouthed breathlessly. _Time is running out! Mom is in such pain. Hold on, Mom! I'm coming. Just a little bit longer, please. I'll be there. I'll save you._

Anakin glanced at the bodies of the poor farmers. _No time to bury them now-I'll come back after I've saved Mom. I promise._ He jumped astride the speeder bike and put it flat out, rushing across the dark desert landscape, following Shmi's call.

Under the pale light of a full moon, Anakin Skywalker pulled the speeder bike to the ridge of a high dune and peered across the desert wastes of Tatooine. Not too far below him, he saw an encampment spread about a small oasis, and he knew at once, even before spotting a figure, that it was the Tusken camp he sought. He could sense his mother down there, could feel her pain calling him, drawing him as a bright light for a moth.

He crept closer, studying the straw and skin huts for any anomalies which might clue him in to their respective purposes. One especially sturdy hut at the edge of the oasis caught and held his attention: it seemed less tended than the others, yet more solidly constructed. As he came around a bit more, he grew even more intrigued, noting that only one hut was guarded, by a pair of Tuskens flanking the entrance.

"Oh, Mom," whispered Anakin.

Silent as a shadow, the Padawan slipped through the encampment, moving hut to hut, flat against walls and belly-crawling across open spaces, working his way gradually toward the hut he felt held his mother. He came against its side at last, and put his hands against the soft skin wall, feeling the emotions and pain of the person within. A quick glance around the front showed him the two Tusken guards, sitting a short distance in front of the door.

Anakin drew and ignited his lightsaber, then crouched low, shielding the glow as much as he could. He slid the energy blade through the wall and easily cut the material away, then, without even pausing to see if any Tuskens were inside, he crawled through.

"Mom," he breathed again, and his legs weakened beneath him. The room was lit by dozens of candles, and by a shaft of pale moonlight, streaming through a hole in the roof, illuminating the figure of Shmi, tied facing against a rack to the side of the tent. Her arms were outstretched, bound at bloodied wrists, and her face, when she turned to the side, showed the weeks of beatings she had endured.

Anakin quickly cut her free and gently lowered her from the perch, into his arms and then down to the floor.

"Mom ... Mom... Mom," he whispered softly. Anakin knew that she was alive, though she did not immediately respond and had come down, body so pitifully limp. He could feel her in the Force, though she was a thin, thin sensation.

He cradled her head and kept repeating her name softly, and finally Shmi's eyelids fluttered open as much as she could manage through the swelling and the dried blood.

"Dee?" she whispered back. He could feel her wheezing as she tried to speak, and knew that many of her ribs had been crushed. "Dee? Is it you?"

Gradually, her eyes came to focus upon him, and he could see a thin smile of recognition coming to her battered face.

"I'm here, Mom," he told her. "You're safe now. Hang on. I'm going to get you out of here."

"Dee? Dee?" Shmi replied, and she tilted her head, the way she often had when Anakin was a boy, seeming quite amused by him. "You look so handsome."

"Save your strength, Mom," he said, trying to calm her. "We've got to get away from here."

"My son," Shmi went on, and she seemed to be in a different place than Anakin, a safer place. "My grown-up son. I knew you'd come back to me. I knew it all along."

Anakin tried again to tell her to lie still and save her strength, but the words simply wouldn't come out of his mouth.

"I'm so proud of you, Dee. So proud. I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too, Mom, but we can talk later ..."

"Now I am complete," Shmi announced then, and she looked straight up, past Anakin, past the hole in the ceiling, to the shining moon, it seemed.

Somewhere deep inside, Anakin understood. "Just stay with me, Mom," he pleaded, and he had to work very hard to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I'm going to make you well again. Everything's ... going to be fine."

"I love ..." Shmi started to say, but then she went very still, and Anakin saw the light leave her eyes.

Anakin could hardly draw his breath. Wide-eyed with disbelief, he lifted Shmi to his breast and rocked her there for a long time. _She couldn't be gone! She just couldn't!_ He pulled her back again, staring into her eyes, silently pleading with her to answer him. But there was no light there, no flicker of life. He hugged her close, rocking her.

Then he laid her back to the floor and gently closed her eyes.

Anakin didn't know what to do. He sat motionless, staring at his dead mother, then looked up, his blue eyes blazing with hatred and rage. He replayed all of the recent events of his life in his head, wondering what he might have done differently, done better, to keep Shmi alive. He should never have left her here in the first place, he realized, should never have let Qui-Gon take him away from Tatooine without bringing his mother along, as well. She said she was proud of him, but how could he deserve her pride if he could not even save her?

He wanted Shmi to be proud of him, wanted to tell his mom all about the things that had come into his life, his Jedi training, all the good work he had already done, and most of all, about Padmé. Oh how he had wanted his mom to get to know Padmé. She would have loved her-how could she not? And Padmé would have loved her, and in loving his mother, would love him.

_Now what am I going to do?_

The minutes slipped past and Anakin just sat there, immobilized by his confusion, by a budding rage and the most profound sense of emptiness he had ever known. Only when the pale light began to grow around him, making the low-burning candles seem even thinner, did he even remember where he was.

He looked about, wondering how he might get his mother's body out of here-for he certainly wasn't going to leave it to the Tusken Raiders. He could hardly move, though. There seemed a profound pointlessness to it all, a series of motions without meaning.

At that time, the only meaning, the only purpose, that Anakin could fathom was that of the rage building up within him, an anger at losing someone he did not wish to give up.

Some small part of him warned him not to give in to that anger, warned him that such emotions were of the dark side.

Then he looked at Shmi lying there, so still, seeming at peace but covered with the clear evidence of all the pain that had been inflicted upon her poor body these last days.

The Jedi Padawan climbed to his feet and took up his lightsaber, then boldly strode through the door.

The two Tusken guards gave a yelp and lifted their staves, rushing for him, but the blue-glowing blade ignited, and in a flash of killing light, Anakin took them down, left and right.

The rage was not sated.

xXxXx

Deep in his meditations, peering through the dark side, Master Yoda felt a sudden surge of anger, of outrage beyond control. The diminutive Master's eyes popped open wide at the overwhelming strength of that rage.

And then he heard a voice, a familiar voice, crying, "No, Deak! No! Don't! No!"

_It is Qui-Gon,_ realized Yoda. _But Qui-Gon is dead, had become one with the Force! One could not retain consciousness and sense of self in that state; one could not speak from beyond the grave._

Yet, despite knowing it to be impossible, Yoda had heard the ghostly call, and in his deep meditative state, his thoughts focused as precisely as they had ever been, the Jedi Master knew that he had not been mistaken in his identification.

He wanted to focus on that, then, perhaps to try to follow that call back to its ghostly source, but he could not, overwhelmed again by the surge of rage and pain and ... power.

He made a noise and lurched forward, and then came out of his trance as his door opened and Mace Windu rushed in.

"What is it?" Mace asked.

"Pain. Suffering. Death! I fear something terrible has happened. Young Skywalker is in pain. Terrible pain."

Yoda did not tell Mace the rest of it, that somehow Anakin's rush of agony manifesting in the Force had tapped into the spirit of the dead Jedi Master who had discovered him. Too much was happening here. That disembodied familiar voice hung profoundly in Yoda's thoughts. For if it was true, if he had heard what he was sure he had heard ...

xXxXx

Anakin, too, had heard the voice of Qui-Gon, imploring him to restrain himself, to deny the rage. He hadn't recognized it, though, for he was too full of pain and anger. He spotted a Tusken woman to the side, in front of another of the tents, carrying a pail of dirty water, and saw a Tusken child in th eshadows of another nearby hut, staring at him with an incredulous expression.

Then he was moving, though he was hardly aware of his actions. His blade flashed, and he ran on. The Tusken woman screamed and was impaled.

Now all of the camp seemed in motion, Tuskens rushing out of every hut, many with weapons in hand. But Anakin was deep into the dance of death then, into the energy of the Force. He leapt far and long, clearing one hut and coming down before another, his blade flashing even before he landed, even before the two Tuskens recognized that he had jumped between them.

A third came at him, thrusting forth a spear, but Anakin lifted an empty hand and set up a wall of Force energy as solid as stone. Then he shoved out with that hand, and the Tusken spearman flew away, fully thirty meters, smashing through the wall of yet another hut.

Anakin was off and running, off and leaping, his blade spinning left and right in a blur, every stab taking a Tusken down, writhing to the ground, every slash putting a piece of Tusken on the ground.

Soon none were standing against him, all trying to flee, but Anakin would have none of that. He saw one group rush into a hut, and reached out across the way, to a large boulder in the distance. It flew to his call, soaring across the sand, smashing one fleeing Tusken down and flying on.

Anakin dropped it on the hut full of Tuskens, crushing them all.

And then he was running, his strides enhanced by the Force, overcoming the fleeing creatures, slaughtering them, every one.

He didn't feel empty any longer. He felt a surge of energy and strength beyond anything he had ever known, felt full of the Force, full of power, full of life.

And then it was over, suddenly, it seemed, and Anakin stood among the ruins of the encampment, dozens and dozens of dead Tusken Raiders all about him, and only a single hut still standing.

He put his lightsaber away and walked back to that hut, where he gently and reverently scooped his mother's body into his arms.


	21. Chapter 19

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

* * *

Nial entered the garage at dawn. "Well, there you are," he said to Padmé. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I had trouble sleeping," said Padmé.

"He's back! He's back!" Kirsi called from outside the garage.

Padmé and Nial came out to Kirsi, as Len emerged from the house.

"Where?" asked Padmé.

Kirsi pointed across the desert.

Squinting and shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, Padmé finally marked the black dot that was Anakin, rushing toward them. As the speck grew into a distinguishable form, she realized that he was not alone, that there was someone tied over the back of the speeder.

Anakin crossed into the compound a few moments later, pulling up short of the stunned group. Without a word, he dismounted and moved to unstrap his dead mother, lifting her and cradling her in his arms. Then, still without speaking, Anakin walked past them and into the house.

All the time, the thing that struck Padmé the most was the look upon Anakin's face, an expression unlike anything she had ever seen on the Padawan: part rage, part grief, part guilt, and part resignation, even defeat. She knew that Anakin would need her, and soon.

But she had no idea of what she might do for him.

X - x - X - x - X

For the rest of the day, folk in the homestead went about their chores as though trying not to think about what had befallen Shmi. At work preparing a meal for Anakin, Padmé was surprised when Kirsi came up to help her.

"What's it like there?" Kirsi asked, her tone curious.

"I'm sorry?" said Padmé, looking at Kirsi with curiosity and confusion.

"On Naboo. What's it like?"

Padmé could hardly register the question, for her thoughts remained with Anakin and his grief. It took her a long time to respond, but finally she managed to say, "Oh, it's very ... very green. You know, with lots of water, and trees and plants everywhere. It's not like here at all."

"I think I like it here better," Kirsi said, seeming to bristle at the criticism of her home.

"Maybe you'll come and see it someday," said Padmé politely.

"I don't think so. I don't like to travel," said Kirsi.

Padmé picked up the tray and turned to go. _How odd that she would ask such questions, then_. With as much smile as she could muster, Padmé said, "Thank you, Kirsi."

She found Anakin standing at a workbench in the garage, working on a part from the speeder bike.

"I brought you something to eat."

Anakin glanced at her, but immediately went back to his work. She noted that he was exaggerating every movement, obviously frustrated, obviously distracted from the task at hand.

"The shifter broke," he explained, too intently. "Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I should be better at fixing things. I ..." He slammed down the wrench he was using, head bowed.

A moment of silence stretched between them, Padmé finding herself unable to come up with the words to comfort Anakin.

"Why did she have to die?" he asked.

Padmé put the tray down on the workbench, setting a hand on him, trying to comfort him.

"Why couldn't I save her?" Anakin asked. "I know I could have!"

"Dee, you tried," said Padmé. "Sometimes there are things no one can fix. You're not all-powerful."

He stiffened at her words and pulled away from her suddenly-and angrily, she realized.

"But I should be!" he growled, and then he looked at her, his face a mask of grim determination. "And someday I will be!"

"Anakin, don't say such things," Padmé replied fearfully, but he didn't even seem to hear her.

"I'll be the most powerful Jedi ever!" he railed on. "I promise you! I will even learn to stop people from dying!"

"Anakin-"

"It's all Obi-Wan's fault!" He stormed across the room and slammed his fist onto the workbench again, nearly dislodging the plate of food. "He put me out of the way."

"To guard me," said Padmé quietly.

"I should have been out there with him, hunting the assassins and terrorists! I"d have had them a long time ago, and would've gotten here in time and my mother would still be alive!"

"You can't know-"

"He's jealous of me," Anakin rambled on, paying no attention to her at all.

_He isn't talking to me_, realized Padmé. _He's just letting it out verbally, what he's been thinking. And I can hardly believe what I'm hearing._

"He put me out of the way because he knows that I'm already more powerful than he is. He's holding me back!"

He finished by picking up his wrench and throwing it across the garage, where it smashed against a far wall and clattered down among some spare parts.

"Anakin, what's wrong?" she cried at him.

Her volume and tone finally got his attention.

"I just told you!" he snapped.

"No!" Padmé yelled back at him. "No. What's really wrong?"

Anakin just stared at her, and she knew that she was onto something.

"I know it hurts, Anakin, but this is more than that. What's really wrong."

He just stared at her.

"Dee?"

His body seemed to shrink then, and slump forward a bit. "I ... I killed them," he admitted. "I killed them all. They're dead. Every single one of them."

"You did battle ..." Padmé tried to reason out what he was saying.

"Not just the men," Anakin went on. "And the men are the only fighters among the Tuskens. No, not just them. The woman and the children, too." His face contorted as he teetered between anger and guilt. "They're like animals! And I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!"

Padmé was too stunned to speak, too stunned to react.

"Why do I hate them?" he asked.

"Do you hate them, or do you hate what they did to your mother?" asked Padmé, finding her voice.

"I hate them!" he insisted.

"And they earned your anger, Anakin," she said.

"But it was more than that ..." Anakin looked up at her, trying to find the words to explain. "I didn't ... I couldn't ... I couldn't control myself. I ... I don't want to hate them-I know that there is no place for hatred. But I just can't forgive them!"

_What can I say? Such hatred destroys a man, as surely as a hidden and forbidden love-and he would come to hate me as much as he hates them now ..._ thought Padmé as warning bells in her subconscious proclaimed "dangerous".

X - x - X - x - X

Obi-Wan Kenobi slumped back in the seat of his starfighter, shaking his head in frustration. It had taken him a long while to extract himself safely from the factory city, and when he had at last found his starfighter, he had thought the adventure over. But not so.

"The transmitter is working," he stated his thoughts aloud as R2D2 tootled his agreement. "But we're not receiving a return signal. Coruscant's too far." He spun to face the droid. "Can you boost the power?"

The beeps that came back at him were not comforting.

"Okay, then, we'll have to try something else." Obi-Wan looked around for an answer. He didn't want to lift off from the planet and risk detection, but so far out and within the heavy and metallic atmosphere of Geonosis, he had no chance of reaching distant Coruscant.

"B'reuse is much closer," he said suddenly, and R2 beeped. "Maybe we can contact Anakin and get the information relayed."

R2 replied with enthusiasm and Obi-Wan climbed back out of the cockpit to repeat the message with the changes for Anakin. A few moments later, though, the droid signaled him that something was wrong. With a frustrated growl, the Jedi climbed back into the cockpit.

"How can he not be there?" he asked, getting a determinedly negative whistle in reply from the droid. Rather than argue with the droid, Obi-Wan checked the instruments himself. Sure enough, Anakin's signal was not to be found coming from B'reuse.

"Anakin? Anakin? Do you copy? This is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, lifting his ship comm directly and shooting the call out into the general area of B'reuse.

After several minutes with no response, the Jedi put the comm back down, and turned to R2. "He's not there. I'm going to widen the search. I hope nothing's happened to him."

He sat back down as the minutes slipped past. He knew that he was losing precious time, but his choices were limited. He couldn't head back to the city and risk capture, not with so much vital news to relay to the Jedi Council, nor did he want to blast away, for the same reasons. He still had so much to learn here.

So he waited, and finally some time later, R2 tootled emphatically. Obi-Wan moved to the controls, his eyes widening as he got the confirmation.

"That's Anakin's tracking signal all right, but it's coming from Tatooine! What in the blazes is he doing there? He was told to stay on B'reuse ..."

R2 gave another low whistle.

"All right, we're all set-we'll get these answers later," said Obi-Wan. He climbed back out of the cockpit and jumped to the ground. "Transmit, Artoo. We haven't much time."

The droid locked onto him immediately.

"Anakin?" asked Obi-Wan. "Anakin, do you copy? This is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Master Kenobi, sir," came the smoothly metallic voice of C-3PO. "It is good to hear your voice. I trust everything is finding you ..."

"Good, are you reading me clearly?" said Obi-Wan, interrupting the long-winded droid.

"Yes, sir, quite clearly," said C-3PO. "I ..."

"Record this message and deliver it to the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan instructed. "Anakin, my long-range transmitter is knocked out. Re-transmit this message to Coruscant ..."

The Jedi began to tell his tale, then. Urgency to relay his findings hid from him the knowledge that the Geonosians had picked up his signal broadcast. Nor did he think of the possibility that they had triangulated those receptions to locate his starfighter. Wound up in his tale, he didn't notice the approach of the armed droidekas, rolling up to him, and then unrolling to their attack posture.

X - x - X - x - X

Twisting slowly in the force field, restrained by crackling bolts of blue energy, Obi-Wan Kenobi could only watch helplessly as Count Rex Austerus strode into the room. Wearing an expression outwardly displaying great sympathy, the regal man walked right up before the encapsulated Obi-Wan. The falseness rang an alarm in Obi-Wan's mind as he stretched mentally for the will of the Force drowned by the noise of the energy force field.

"Traitor," Obi-Wan said.

"Hello, my friend," Rex replied. "This is a mistake. A terrible mistake. They've gone too far. This is madness!"

"I thought **you**were their leader here, Austerus," Obi-Wan replied, holding his voice as steady as possible.

"This had nothing to do with me, I assure you," the former Jedi insisted. He seemed almost hurt by the accusation. "I promise you that I will petition immediately to have you set free."

"Well, I hope it doesn't take too long. I have work to do," replied Obi-Wan. He noted a slight crack in Austerus' remorseful expression, a slight twinge of ... anger?

"May I ask what a Jedi Knight is doing all the way out here on Geonosis?"

After a moment's reflection, Obi-Wan decided he had little to lose here, and he wanted to continue to press Austerus, that he might gauge the truth. "I'm following the trail set me by a bounty hunter named Jango Fett. Do you know him?"

"There are no bounty hunters here that I am aware of. Geonosians don't trust them," replied Austerus.

_Trust. That's a good word-and yet I sense I cannot trust him either._"Well, who can blame them?" said Obi-Wan disarmingly. "But he is here, I assure you."

Count Austerus paused for a moment, then nodded, apparently conceding the point. "It's a great pity that our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan," he said, his tone warm and inviting. "Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you. I wish he was still alive-I could use his help right now."

"Qui-Gon would never join you."

"Don't be so sure, my young Jedi," immediately replied Count Austerus, a gentle smile on his face, one of confidence and calm. "You forget that Qui-Gon was once my apprentice, just as you were once his."

"You believe that brings loyalty above his loyalty to the Jedi Council and the Republic?"

"He knew all about the corruption in the Senate," Austerus went on without missing a beat. "They all do, of course. Yoda and Mace Windu. But Qui-Gon would never have gone along with the status quo, with the corruption, if he had known the truth as I have." The pause was dramatic, demanding a prompt from Obi-Wan.

"The truth?"

"The truth," replied a confident Rex Austerus. "What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith?"

The notion hit Obi-Wan as profoundly as any of the electric bolts holding him ever could. "No! That's not possible." His mind whirled, needing a denial. He along among the living Jedi had battled a Sith Lord, and that contest had cost his beloved Master Qui-Gon his life. "The Jedi would be aware of it."

"The dark side of the Force has clouded theiir vision, my friend," explained Austerus serenely. "Hundreds of Senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious."

"I don't believe you," Obi-Wan said flatly. _I just wish I truly believed that to be the truth as solidly as I proclaimed it so._

"The viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious," Austerus explained, and given the events of a decade ago, it seemed a resonable claim. "But he was betrayed ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help. He told me everything. The Jedi Council would not believe him. I tried many times to warn them, but they wouldn't listen to me. Once they sense the Dark Lord's presence and realize their error, it will be too late. You **must**join with me, Obi-Wan, and together we will destroy the Sith."

It all seemed so reasonable, so logical, so attuned to the legend of Count Austerus as Obi-Wan had larned it. But beneath the silken words and tone was a feeling Obi-Wan had that flew in the face of that logic.

"I will never join you, Count!" Obi-Wan's cry burst through the silk web, irrevocably rending the half-woven spell.

The cultured and regal man gave a great and disappointed sigh, then turned to leave. "It may be difficult to secure your release," he tossed back at Obi-Wan as he exited the room.


	22. Chapter 20

A/N: I remain neither George Lucas nor the owner of Star Wars. Consequently, I own the rights to nothing which my readers recognize from the galaxy far, far away ... No profit being made, no intended infringement-just good fun inconveniencing a few electrons and hopefully entertaining my readers.

* * *

Padmé stood cloaked against the brightness of the twin blazing suns of Tatooine. Two old headstones marked the ground next to the recently up-heaved ground of a new grave outside the Korvald compound. Even the death of a slave woman lent a somber mood to the day, graying the mood with clouds which were never mirrored in the sky above. The Korvalds had gone back indoors as sensible folk did at this time of day, waiting for a cooler period in which they might work, yet still Padmé stood, watching Anakin.

Kneeling before the new marker, Anacin picked up a handful of sand, letting it slip through his fingers as he spoke. "I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom," he said. "I wasn't strong enough. But I promise I won't fail again. I miss you so much."

Though she heard the metallic footsteps crunching the sand behind her, Padmé did not turn away from her attempt at sharing the grief that Anakin felt for his mother.

"Threepio? What are you doing here?" Padmé did not look at the droid she addressed.

"I have recorded a message from Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," said C-3PO. "He says it's quite important that you re-transmit ..."

"Very well." Anakin stood abruptly, his face still twisted with the mixture of guilt, grief, and anger which had filled his heart since the moment he had started away from the encampment of the Sandpeople who had stolen his mother. Wordlessly he stalked to the ship.

Padmé bit her lip, then with C-3PO, followed Anakin.

A projected image of Obi-Wan sprang up, and began, "Anakin. My long-range transmitter has been knocked out. Retransmit this message to Coruscant."

The message paused here, Anakin looked to Padmé and said, "Patch it through to the Jedi Council chamber."

Padmé stepped over and flipped a button, then waited for confirmation that the signal was getting through. "Go ahead."

"Following the leads, I have come to the droid foundries of Geonosis. The Trade Federation is to take delivery of a droid army here and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala."

Anakin and Padmé exchanged knowing glances at this declaration, neither much surprised by the statement.

"The Commerce Guild and Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Austerus and are forming an-" The hologram swung about. "Wait! Wait!"

Anakin and Padmé both cringed as droidekas appeared in the hologram, grabbing and subduing Obi-Wan before the hologram flickered and broke apart.

xXxXx

On distant Coruscant, Yoda and Mace Windu and the other members of the Jedi Council watched the hologram transmission with trepidation and great sadness.

"He is alive," Yoda announced after yet another viewing. "I feel him in the Force."

"But they have taken him," Mace put in. "And the wheels have begun to spin more dangerously."

"More happening on Geonosis, I feel, than has been revealed."

"I agree," Mace said. "We must not sit idly by." He looked at Yoda, as did everyone else in the room, and the little Jedi Master closed his eyes, seemingly very wearied and very pained by it all.

"The dark side, I feel," he said. "And all is cloudy."

Mace nodded and turned a grim expression on the others. "Assemble," he ordered, a command that had not been given to the Jedi Council in many, many years.

"We will deal with Count Austerus," turning to the comlink, Mace paused to address Anakin. "The most important thing for you, Anakin, is to stay where you are. Protect the Senator at all costs. That is your only priority."

"Understood, Master," said Anakin, his tone full of resignation and defeat.

As the hologram switched off, Padmé moved to the ship's console and began flicking switches and co-ordinates, confirming what she already knew. "They have to come halfway across the galaxy," she said, turning to Anakin, who seemed not to care. "They'll never get there in time to save him."

Anakin made no response.

"Look, Geonosis is less than a parsec away!" announced Padmé, flipping a few more controls to show the flight line on the viewscreen. "Anakin!"

"You heard him."

"They can't get from Coruscant in time to save him!" Padmé reiterated. She started flicking the switches on the panel, preparing the engines for firing, but Anakin gently put his hand over hers, stopping her.

"If he's still alive," the young Jedi answered somberly.

Padmé stared at him hard, and he turned away and walked off.

"Anakin, are you just going to sit there and let him die?" Padmé cried. She fought the urge to chase him across the bridge, letting her words do the task for her. "He's your friend! Your mentor!"

"He's like my father!" shot back Anakin. "But you heard Master Windu. He gave me strict orders to stay here."

_He's doubting himself. He feels like a failure because he could not save his mother, and maybe it's the first time he's ever doubted his inner voice, his instincts,_ thought Padmé. _There must be a way. If we stay here, I shall lose two friends-Obi-Wan to the Geonosians and Anakin to his guilt. At least, I hope I have not already lost Anakin's friendship ... and that there is still time for Obi-Wan ._

"He gave you strict orders to stay here only so that you could protect me," said Padmé authoritatively. _Will he remember that we were supposed to be on B'reuse, that we're not even supposed to **be** on Tatooine?_

She turned back to the console. "Threepio, get ready," she said, "we're leaving Tatooine." She flicked a few more switches and the engines roared to life.

"Padmé!" protested Anakin.

"He gave you strict orders to protect me," she said again. "And **I **am going to save Obi-Wan. So, if you plan to protect me, you'll have to come along. Or there's still time-I can let you out of the ship before I leave."

Anakin stared at her for a few moments, and she held his gaze, her head tilted, hair loose and cascading across half her face, but hardly dimming the brightness of her determination.

_No matter how she justifies it, we'd be outside the orders that Master Windu gave me. This is not what is expected of me as a Jedi Padawan._ Anakin thought for a moment more. _When did that ever stop me?_ "Fine."

Without another backward glance, the starship lifted away into the Tatooine sky.

xXxXx

The calm beauty of the Republic Executive Building on Coruscant, with its streaming fountains and reflecting pools, ridged columns and flowing statues, masked the turmoil within. The word had passed, from Obi-Wan to Yoda and the Jedi Council, and now from them to the Chancellor and the leaders of the Senate, that the Republic was crumbling. The mood inside Chancellor Palpatine's office was both somber and frantic, everyone overwhelmed by a sense of despair and a need to act, frustrated by the apparent lack of options.

Yoda, Mace Windu, and Ki-Adi-Mundi represented the Jedi, lending an air of calm against the nervous energy of Senators Bail Organa and Ask Aak. Behind his great desk, Palpatine listened to it all with apparent despair. Beside Akhil Palpatine, Mas Amedda stood, seeming on the verge of tears. For several long moments after Mace Windu had concluded his recounting of Obi-Wan's message from Geonosis, a thick silence hung in the room.

Yoda, leaning on his small cane, glanced at Bail Organa, always a reliable and competent man, and gave a slight nod. Catching the cue, the Senator from Alderaan began the discussion.

"The Commerce Guild is preparing for war," he said. "Given the report of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, there can be no doubt of that."

"If the report is accurate," the fiery Ask Aak promptly responded.

"It is, Senator," Mace Windu assured him, and Ask Aak, a Senator of action, accepted that. Indeed, Yoda understood that Ask Aak had only made the remark because he wanted the Jedi to openly support the report, to impress upon all the others that the situation was on the verge of catastrophe.

"Count Austerus must have made a treaty with them," Chancellor Palpatine reasoned.

"We must stop them before they're ready," Bail Organa said.

"With what forces?" asked Akhil Palpatine. He turned to Yoda. "Master Yoda, how many Jedi are available to go to Geonosis?"

"Throughout the galaxy, thousands of Jedi there are," the diminutive Jedi Master replied. "To send on special mission, two hundred available are."

"With all due respect to the Jedi Order," said Bail Organa, "that doesn't seem like enough."

"Through negotiations, the Jedi maintain peace," Yoda replied. "To start a war, we do not intend."

Yoda's continued calm only seemed to push the frantic Ask Aak over the edge. "The debate is over!" he cried. "Now we need that clone army."

Yoda closed his eyes slowly, pained by the weight of reason behind the dreaded words.

"Unfortunately, the debate is **not** over," Bail Organa said. "The Senate will never approve the use of the army before the separatists attack. And by then, it will likely be too late."

"This is a crisis," Mas Amedda dared to interject. "The Senate must vote the Chancellor emergency powers! He could then approve the use of the clones before it is too late."

Akhil Palpatine rocked back at the suggestion, seeming profoundly shaken. "But what Senator would have the courage to propose such a radical amendment?"

"I will!" declared Ask Aak without hesitation.

Beside him, Bail Organa gave a helpless chuckle and shook his head. "They will not listen to you, I fear. Nor to me," he added quickly, when Ask Aak snapped a glare at him. "We have spent too much of our political capital debating the philosophies of the separatists and arguing for action. The Senate will not see our call as anything more than overly alarmist. We need a voice of reason, one willing to reverse position, even, given the gravity of the current situation."

"If only Senator Amidala might be so persuaded," reasoned Mas Amedda.

"It isn't impossible," said Bail Organa. "I will speak with her."

Palpatine nodded a non-vocal approval, his face masked with a grim determination.

Yoda frowned, his ears flattening, as he considered the Chancellor, sensing a strong fear from the man, as if he knew that he was about to be thrust forward into the most dangerous position he and the Republic had ever known.


End file.
